


Skies Gray with Tears

by Blue_Five



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Soulmarks, Soulmates, Suicide Attempt, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Five/pseuds/Blue_Five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All that Stiles loved died with Derek and he blames Jackson for everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Torn Asunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnTheGround2012](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheGround2012/gifts).



> otg2012 asked for Stackson. I don't think this is anywhere CLOSE to what they had in mind but here we go ... and I am SO sorry for the opening.

“You will not tell my dad that we are trying to get pregnant, Derek!  Good grief, like I want to have that conversation over Thanksgiving turkey?” Stiles complains, digging in the glove compartment.

Derek glances over at his boyfriend.  “But we _are_ trying to get pregnant, Stiles.  Why shouldn’t we mention that?”

“Oh gee, I dunno … maybe because we aren’t married?” Stiles retorts.

Derek rolls his eyes.  “Stiles, I told you, werewolves don’t –“

Stiles waves a hand as he continues to rummage.  “Yeah, yeah … I know.  Werewolves take mates, not spouses.”  Stiles looks up from his search to smile at his lover.  “But I’m human and if you think I’m missing out on the chance to call you Derek Sebastian Stilinski, you got another think coming.”

“Stiles … do you regret us not being soulmates?” Derek asks the question neither of them really discuss.

Stiles sits up with a snort and the peanut butter cups he’d been digging for – Derek’s nose wrinkles against the overly strong scent of peanuts, sugar and chocolate.  It pains him to think how long the candy has hidden in the back of his glove box.  Usually, he finds Stiles’ candy stashes quickly but sometimes he misses them if the packaging is tight.  Stiles munches happily before swallowing and looking over at Derek.

“Derek, you know I love you more than curly fries … I don’t need some mystical tattoo on my face to tell me you’re the only one for me,” Stiles says firmly, dismissing the entire history of soulmates.

Derek sighs.  “Stiles, what if you find –“

“It won’t matter,” Stiles insists.  “My folks went their entire marriage without finding a ‘soulmate’.  You know why?  Because they were already with the people they were supposed to be with.”

Derek smiles at his boyfriend’s casual disdain for the entire process of soulmating.  After all, it’s a _scientifically proven_ event that occurs between two individuals.  Physical contact triggers the reaction and the skin coloring happens only moments later, marking the left side of one partner’s face and the right side of the other -- mirrored markings unique to that pair.

Derek’s witnessed it – his sister Laura found her soulmate in a woman named Allison.  Derek happened to be there when they bumped into each other at the grocery store.  Derek also witnessed the aftermath with Allison’s husband, Scott, who just happens to be Stiles’ best friend.  He was left crushed and alone.

The devastation he saw in Scott’s eyes makes Derek wonder if they aren’t tempting fate but he shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind.  Derek honestly cannot imagine anyone else in his life besides Stiles.  They met, unsurprisingly, when Stiles spilled an entire cup of hot coffee all over Derek.  His desperate attempts to apologize and clean the beverage off Derek had endeared him to the werewolf instantly.  Five dates and one, as Stiles insists on calling it, ‘supremely awesome’ first night together and both of them were hooked.  They’ve endured the silent disapproval of soulmated friends and family.  They mean well but Derek knows he will follow Stiles forever soulmates or not.  Derek lets his imagination drift toward his planned proposal this weekend.  Soulmates or not, he’s not wasting another minute worrying about it – he wants Stiles as a mate and husband.  Nothing will keep him from asking the question.

Derek opens his mouth to tease Stiles about whose name will get top billing when something catches his eye.  It’s been snowing and he’s been driving cautiously even as visibility drops.  Unfortunately, the road is full of holiday travelers and not all of them werewolves with supernatural reflexes and sight to break through the growing white-out conditions. 

Directly in front of them is a wreck with several vehicles involved.  Derek makes out jack-knifed semi with cars and trucks littered along its side, in the ditch and the median.  He lets off the gas and gently pumps his brake as he looks for a place to put them that will cause the least damage to the vehicle and Stiles.  Derek’s sudden clenched jaw and slight warping of the steering wheel as he grips it make Stiles sit up and then throw his arms out in front of him to the dashboard as he braces for impact.

“Oh shit, Derek!” Stiles yells.

Derek turns the wheel slightly, intending to do a controlled skid into the nearby median.  He knows he can bring the vehicle to a safe stop before they’re anywhere near a drainage culvert.  At least that’s what Derek plans … what happens is the delivery truck driver behind them panics and steps on the gas sending him into Derek’s SUV.  The vehicle spins and faster than even Derek can react, they are sideways and rolling down the highway.  Derek hears Stiles shout and then in a jarring flip, the shout is cut off.  They finally land on the tires in a cacophony of breaking glass and creaking metal.

Derek blinks.  He feels blood running down his face even as the gash on his forehead heals.  His legs are pinned in the well.  There’s a great deal of pain, but the werewolf knows he’ll heal completely once he’s free.  Derek looks over at the passenger seat.  The airbags deployed.  Stiles’ chin rests on his chest and the slowing heartbeat makes Derek want to tear the SUV apart to reach his boyfriend.  Stiles scent is filled with pain even though he’s unconscious.  The young man’s legs are lost to view amidst twisted metal.

“Stiles … baby, answer me,” Derek pleads. 

Stiles moans softly, his head hanging limply forward.  Derek tries not to panic but his boyfriend is _never_ this still, not even when he’s asleep. 

“Stiles … god, please wake up,” Derek asks again.  “Please look at me.”

Sirens sound far away as Derek tries to reach his unconscious partner.  He wishes more than ever that Stiles was a werewolf like himself.  Derek loves his human boyfriend but instances like this make him fearful.  Derek is so wrapped up in trying to get Stiles to awaken, he can’t stop the startled roar when someone knocks on his door.  His head snaps around with eyes gleaming red.

The man standing at the door has eyes that gleam gold – a beta werewolf.  He wears a fireman’s coat and helmet.  Derek realizes it’s just the rescue squads already on scene coming to the newest wreck.

“Easy, alpha … just trying to get a read on the situation here,” the man says softly.

Derek takes several quick breaths and gets himself under control.  “Sorry, sorry … just … my legs are stuck but my boyfriend … he’s human and I think he’s really hurt.”

The man’s nostrils flare as he looks across Derek to where Stiles slumps in his seat.  His jaw tightens before he yells to the other members of his team.

“We got a human over here – needs immediate extract!”

Derek grabs the man’s hand.  “Did you – what did you ---?”

The fireman grips Derek’s hand tightly in return.  “Nothing more than you probably have, alpha – he’s lost a lot of blood and he’s got a concussion.  I’d wager both his legs are broken and a rib or two – that wheezing is a lung puncture.  Humans are going to take priority as always because they can’t heal like we can.”

“Tha-thanks … it’s just … he’s –“ Derek looks over at Stiles helplessly.

“Are you two soulmates?” the man asks, glancing quickly at Stiles’ face and then back to Derek.

Derek shakes his head.  “No.  I was going to ask him over the holiday to be my mate … we’ve been together six years – since he turned 18.  It never mattered to us … whether or not we were linked like that.”

The other werewolf listens and nods as his team wade through the snow to Derek’s crumpled vehicle.  It’s not unusual – people fall in love with or without the bond that comes when you find your soulmate.  In a way, he’s a little glad, particularly now that he knows they’re dealing with an alpha.  Werewolves are territorial at the best of times … an alpha soulmated to a human would be a volatile mix indeed.

“His name is Stiles,” Derek offers to the firefighters examining the bent car frame to determine the easiest way to get the human out.

“I’m Jackson,” the first fireman replies.  “The bald guy that resembles a wall?  That’s Boyd, the guy next to him is Isaac.  And here comes Liam … he’s our paramedic.  All wolves … they’ll take good care of your fiancé.”

“Thanks, Jackson,” Derek says.  “I haven’t asked him yet, remember?”

Jackson chuckles, keeping the conversation light as Boyd signals they are going to start peeling the metal back. 

“Any chance he’ll say ‘no’?” Jackson asks.

Derek shakes his head, eyes on Stiles as Liam stabilizes his neck and Isaac prepares to put a backboard into place. 

“He told me he loved me more than curly fries,” Derek says dully.

Boyd’s sharp bark of laughter startles Derek and the alpha smiles sheepishly. 

“Sounds like true love, alpha,” Boyd chuckles.

Derek smiles and nods.  “Yeah, I think it is … I really do.”

Isaac has his gloves on and he begins gingerly bending the frame to make room to pull Stiles out.  The human jerks into consciousness at the first jostle and wheezes out a hoarse cry of pain.  Derek lays a hand on his lover in sudden fear and begins to pull what pain he can away from Stiles.  Liam gently tugs at Derek’s arm.

“I know it’s hard, but don’t – I have to see his body’s reaction to things or I can miss a deeper injury,” the young paramedic explains.

Derek retracts his hand but he can’t stop the tears.  His Stiles is in so much pain – his funny, laughing boyfriend is hurting.  He wants to pull the head of the driver that hit them.  He must growl because Jackson chuckles as he moves to help his teammates pull off the passenger side door.

“Easy, big guy – killing the human won’t help matters,” Isaac says.

Derek sighs.  “Maybe not, but I would have put us in the median safe and sound if he hadn’t clipped me.”

Grumbles of agreement vibrate through the car – werewolves have little patience with human reflexes or lack thereof sometimes.  Stiles soft whimpers cut across the laughter and Derek murmurs to reassure him.

“It’s ok, babe … you’re gonna be ok,” Derek says.  “Just let them get you out.”

Stiles tries to turn his head and whines when he can’t.  “I can-can’t see you, Derek … where am I … what the fuck happened?”

“Car accident, Stiles … don’t try to move, they’re going to get you out and then me and we’ll meet up at the hospital, ok?” Derek promises.

Derek takes Stiles momentary silence as agreement and he looks out the spider webbed windshield of his vehicle.  He squints and then his eyes go wide.

“Oh my God,” Derek breathes.

Jackson looks at the alpha and then over his shoulder.  He curses savagely and scrambles to move push Isaac out of the way.  He begins tearing at the frame.  Boyd starts to yell but Liam’s startled squawk makes him look behind them.

A semi is heading toward the pile of broken cars.  Even humans can hear the desperate hiss of brakes that will never stop the behemoth in time and it heads directly toward the section of the wreck that Derek’s SUV is trapped within.  Isaac jumps out and begins screaming at the onlookers and other rescue teams to get the fuck out of the way.  Derek pushes at the dashboard but he can’t get enough leverage to get his legs free.  Boyd starts to move to the other side to help but Derek stops him.

“No!  There’s no time!  Get him out!  Come back for me later!  Get Stiles out!” Derek yells.

Stiles voice comes up in protest.

“No no no no … don’t you fucking _dare_!  You get him out!  You get Derek out!” Stiles screams at Jackson.

The wolf looks over at Derek and their eyes lock.  They can hear the tires bouncing uselessly across the snow-packed highway.  There is no time.

Jackson jerks Liam out of the vehicle and gathers Stiles against him before turning and running like hell.  Stiles screams in his ear in pain and misery.  Boyd launches himself off the hood as the tractor-trailer rig begins crushing everything between it and its eventual stopping point.  Derek grips the steering wheel tightly and speaks softly, knowing the werewolves will hear him.

“Tell him I will never stop loving him and that I’ll wait.”

His hearing fills again with the chaos of breaking glass and tearing metal.  Silence and darkness follow.


	2. On the Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just ... hard.

Jackson stares in mute disbelief at the man lying on the gurney as they pull away from the crash site. Stiles is unconscious again which is both a concern and a blessing for Jackson. He worries because he can hear how slow Stiles’ heart is beating as it struggles to keep him alive. He feels relief because until about two minutes ago all of Stiles’ strength was focused on cursing Jackson’s very existence. Jackson knows there were only two choices. He could save Stiles or he could _possibly_ save Derek. Derek made the decision and it was the same one Jackson would have made – but Stiles only knows Jackson took him away from the man he loved and now Derek is dead. Werewolves can survive great bodily harm but not everything.

And because Jackson’s life can’t ever be simple, he finds himself faced with the realization that Stiles is his soulmate.

As he held the young man and raced to get them out of the danger zone for the oncoming crash, his cheek brushed against Stiles’ hair. The simple physical contact sent a lightning bolt through both of them – searing its way straight to Jackson’s core with everything that was Stiles. Jackson feels like he wants to laugh, cry and scream all at the same time.

Liam monitors Stiles’ vitals and tries not to stare at the markings appearing along the left side of his friend’s face. Instead, he watches twin markings appear on the _right_ side of Stiles’ face. Tiny random shapes seemed to crawl down the pale skin at Stiles' temple and under his eye. Liam glances at Jackson's face. The marks there are dark, almost indigo blue. Stiles' marks are lighter, less solid. Jackson notices Liam's attention and frowns.

“What? What is it?” he asks uneasily.

Liam shakes his head. “The injuries – the marks will darken again when he's better.”

Jackson runs trembling fingers down his own face and then reaches toward Stiles. He pauses before he makes contact, folding his fingers into a tightly clenched fist. Liam clasps his friend's hand.

“It'll work out, Jackson,” Liam says softly. “You're his soulmate. It'll work out.”

Jackson shakes his head. “He hates me. How can it work out when my soulmate hates me?”

* * *

Jackson walks beside the gurney as long as he can once they reach the hospital. He looks down at the angular face and hears the doctor talking in rapid fire medical terms to the nurses. Suddenly Jackson doesn't care if Stiles hates him ... as long as he lives to hate him. The young man _has_ to live. He stands morosely in the middle of the corridor as Stiles is taken past the double doors leading into the surgical wing.

“Jackson? Honey, what’s wrong? Is it one of your crew?”

The voice is that of Melissa McCall. She's been a nurse at Beacon Hills Memorial for years. They talk sometimes when he comes in for a patient or for one of his brothers from the firehouse. Her hands are soft and warm when she turns his head to look at her.

“Jackson … talk to me, what’s – oh my God, did you … when did you soulmate?”

Jackson blinks, his mind feels like sludge. “I – just a while ago … the wreck … he was one of the injuries …”

Liam walks up then. “Jackson? Hey, buddy … you should probably sit down. Do you want me to call Danny?”

Jackson shakes his head. “No … don’t want to worry him. I just – he’s going to be alright, isn’t he? He has to be alright …”

Melissa frowns worriedly. She knows Jackson only from their interactions at the hospital but he’s always been focused no matter what he does – the disjointed answers make her nervous. She leads him with Liam to a nearby chair which he falls heavily into. Isaac and Boyd come running to them only moments later. Isaac crouches in front of Jackson.

“Hey, Jackson … it’s gonna be ok. We gotcha,” he promises.

Melissa pulls Boyd aside. “Can someone tell me what happened?”

Boyd rubs the back of his neck. “The pileup on the highway … this guy was in an SUV with his boyfriend – bad-ass alpha were named Derek. We –“

“Wait,” Melissa interrupts her heart pounding. “Wait … Derek? Derek _Hale?_ ”

Boyd shrugs. “Maybe? He was definitely an alpha … got the impression they’d been together a while … Stiles – that was the kids name.”

Melissa gasps and she sits down quickly beside Jackson who looks at her confused.

“Do you know him? Stiles, I mean.”

Melissa nods, the back of one hand pressed against her mouth. “He’s my son’s best friend … where’s – where’s Derek? Is he injured?”

The looks on the respective faces tell her everything and Melissa squeezes her eyes shut. Scott will be devastated – he’s been ready to step into the role as Derek’s advisor when the alpha re-established his pack in Beacon Hills. She takes a deep breath and shakes herself.

“I have to call Stiles’ dad … Sheriff Stilinski,” Melissa says.

Jackson covers his face with his hands. The sheriff. His soulmate is the sheriff’s son and Stiles’ aspirant fiancé was an alpha, probably a pack heir … of course this is his life. He groans, and then stands, unable to breathe suddenly.

“Air … can’t – “ Jackson stammers as he races out of the building.

Isaac comes up to him as he’s heaving his breakfast into the shrubs around the parking lot. The younger werewolf rubs his back while Jackson gulps in air. He wipes his mouth and gratefully takes the bottle of water Isaac holds out.

“You never do things the easy way, do you?” Isaac says softly.

Jackson shakes his head ruefully. “In my defense I didn’t exactly _choose_ this.” But now that’s it’s happened, he can’t go back. Everything has changed.

* * *

Stiles’ father stalks into the hospital with Melissa’s son, Scott, at his side. Jackson sits in the waiting area, staring at the beige linoleum tiles. Boyd, Isaac and Liam have returned to work but promise to return after their shift. He tries not to listen but the sheriff takes that option away.

“He _what_?!” John Stilinski barks.

Jackson stands, uncertain of what to do or even say. Scott glares at him as he walks up. Jackson holds his hand out to the sheriff.

“Sir … my name’s Jackson Whittmore. I’m with Station House 83 … our battalion chief is –“

“I know Alan,” the sheriff snaps. “What I want to know is why the hell my son’s boyfriend is dead and now you show up claiming to be soulmated to him!”

“John –“ Melissa begins.

Jackson drops his hand. “Sir, I had a choice to make – your son or Derek. You know as well as I do decisions like that aren’t made lightly but they do have to be made quickly. And I’m not making up the marks on my face, so you know the soulmate bond is true.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Scott snarls, reaching out to rub the side of Jackson’s face. “How do we know it’s not some screwy dye –“

Jackson snarls and jerks away from Scott’s hand. It’s the height of bad manners to touch someone else’s mark casually. Scott returns the snarl and the two weres face off. The sheriff, with a tired sigh, shoves between them.

“Enough!” John yells. “Both of you behave! Scott, stay with your mom. Jackson, you come with me.”

Jackson follows the sheriff into a small exam room. He frowns when the man holds out his hand. Jackson shakes it warily.

“I admit when I’m being an asshole, kid,” John says. “It’s just … Stiles is all I have and Derek … hell, he was like another son to me. Stiles was really in love with him. I suspect those two were planning on getting married and starting a family soon.”

Jackson nods. “Derek was planning on proposing this weekend. I don’t – this isn’t something I planned, sir.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is, Jackson,” John says quietly. “But you’re sure in it now … and my son – well, let’s say _stubborn_ is a mild way of describing his temperament when he gets something in his head.”

“He hates me,” Jackson replies bluntly.

John winces. “I doubt he –“

“No, I felt it – he knows I’m the one who cleared the car before the truck hit. He knows I’m the one who decided to leave Derek behind and save him. He doesn’t know about this,” Jackson finishes, gesturing at his face.

John groans. “Oh boy. And, by the way, ignore Scott. He – well, he went through what Stiles is about to go through – his wife actually mated with Derek’s older sister. It has not been pretty and Scott is … _bitter._ ”

Jackson looks down and then back up at the sheriff. “I always thought this day would be … special.”

For the first time, John sees Jackson – not as an interloper about to complicate his son’s life, but as a young man experiencing what everyone says is the most magical moment in anyone’s life – except for him it’s little more than a living nightmare. He grips Jackson’s shoulder tightly.

“Stiles’ mother and I weren’t soulmated – it was the one thing that kept our marriage from being perfect. Not because we felt we were missing something, but the fear that someone could come along and take everything away was always there,” the sheriff explains. “I’m glad … glad my son found his … found you. And it will work out. Somehow.”

Both men turn when the door opens and Melissa stands in the door. “Stiles is out of surgery. He’s stable and in recovery. John … you should probably be there when he wakes up.”

Jackson swallows hard. “Can I –?”

“No, you fucker, you _can’t_!” Scott’s harsh voice is suddenly there, echoing in the small room. “Stiles needs his _family_ with him … and that _isn’t you_!”

“Scott McCall!” Melissa scolds. “I’ve taught you better than that – and he can be there if he wants … but I don’t really recommend it just yet.”

Jackson sighs at Melissa’s apologetic look. He shakes his head. “I get it … I can wait out here.”

“Kid, you should go home and get some sleep … come back tomorrow, maybe?” the sheriff offers.

Jackson snorts. “I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to, sir. No, I’ll wait. It’s fine.”

His friends return later and Liam holds Jackson when the fatigue, the fear and everything else finally catches up with him and he can’t do anything but cry hopeless tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this story, I'm playing loosely with relationships -- not everyone knows one another or grew up with each other.


	3. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicide attempt. Do NOT read if you're easily bothered by this because I describe the actions leading up to the attempt and the attempt itself.

Stiles stares at the ceiling. He traces random patterns in the acoustic tiles. He ignores the pain radiating through his legs. He ignores the way his head throbs or his neck aches. Every sharp stab of agony tells Stiles that he's alive. And that is precisely what he does _not_ want to be – alive when Derek is not.

“Sourwolf ...” Stiles whispers.

Tears leak out and pool in his ears. His nose runs and before long Stiles finds his chest hitching as he sobs with one arm thrown over his eyes. His throat constricts and stings. Stiles cries himself quiet finally. He rubs his eyes and winces. He touches the right side of his face and inhales sharply. The sensation is ... strange. Electric. It's oddly pleasant which clashes with every emotion he's felt since he learned of Derek's death.

Derek ... Stiles runs his fingertips over his temple and then he's squeezing the call button repeatedly. Alarms beep frantically.

“Hey! _Hey! Somebody get in here!_ ” Stiles yells when no one appears.

Melissa barrels into the room a moment later, eyes wide. “Stiles, what's wrong! What --?”

Stiles' hand is pressed against his face and Melissa realizes what has the young man so frantic.

“Melissa ... mirror ... did I – did I --?”

Melissa steps up and takes hold of Stiles' wrists. “I will show you, but Stiles, you _have_ to calm down, ok? You're not healing if you're stressed like this, alright? You need to calm down.”

Stiles glares at her but she only stares right back. He knows from years of enduring that look that she will not budge until he does as she asks. Stiles takes a few deep breaths and gives her a look that promises no more cooperation until he has the answer he wants. Melissa steps into the bathroom and returns with the small mirror from his shaving kit.

Stiles takes the mirror with a shaking hand and manages to bring it up to his face. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment and then with a sharp exhale, he looks. Dark blue marks go up the right side of his face and under his eye. Amber eyes fill with tears and he gapes at Melissa. She prepares herself for the railing against fate but a sharp laugh from Stiles makes her frown in confusion. His amber eyes glow with a crazed triumph.

“I _knew_ it! Everyone swore we were just asking for trouble but I _knew_ he was it! I knew Derek was my soulmate! I knew it, knew it, knew it!” Stiles barks out. “Oh God ... Derek ... my soulmate ... he's ...”

Stiles drops the mirror into his lap and then he begins to sob. Melissa is trapped. She knows he deserves to know the truth but she can't bring herself to say the words. She picks up the mirror and places a hand on Stiles’ arm.

“Stiles … honey,” Melissa starts.

“What’s wrong with Stiles?”

Melissa turns to see Jackson standing tiredly in the doorway. She hasn’t a clue how he’s managed to stay away from his soulmate this long especially as new as the bond is, but Melissa sees that his patience and self-control is wearing very thin. Unfortunately, before she can usher him out of the room, Stiles looks up from his grief. The reaction is instantaneous.

“ _You_! You _fucker!_ What are you doing here? You … you’re the reason he’s dead! You’re the reason my – my ---“ Stiles’ screams stumble and fade when Jackson steps farther into the room and the light pierces the shadow on his face.

Jackson looks down at Stiles and every instinct in his body screams to run to the young man’s side and comfort him. He shakes, fighting the urge as horrified realization creeps across Stiles’ face.

“No,” Stiles hisses, shaking his head. “No, not you … not you ...”

Jackson trembles and tears spill down his face. “Stiles …. I’m _sorry_ … I would have saved him if I could have … I swear I would have … I’m so sorry … please …”

“Get out,” Stiles grinds.

“ _Please_ …” Jackson begs. “Stiles, I can’t take this!”

“ _YOU_ can’t take this? He was the love of my life – the only person I’ve _ever_ loved and _you_ killed him!”

Melissa pushes Jackson out of the room at that. He goes, unable to fight any longer. He falls into the chair out in the hall and puts his hands over his ears so he can’t hear Stiles screaming at him. He wants to run out of the hospital but he can’t bring himself to leave Stiles. Melissa calls the doctor and Dr. Fenris appears shortly. Together, they manage to calm Stiles with a little medicinal help. Afterward, Fenris goes out to see Jackson, who sits silently. He guides the young man into a nearby exam room and does a cursory check.

“You should go home, Jackson,” Fenris says while testing Jackson’s reflexes.

“I can’t,” Jackson replies hoarsely. “I can’t leave him … he needs –“

Even as the words come out, Jackson feels lost. In a perfect world, he and his soulmate would be spending time together to explore and enjoy the new bond. During the first few days, the bond would be strong and hard to resist so tradition dictated a honeymoon period of sorts. The past few days have been anything but that for Jackson. He drops his head as the tears start again. He wipes at them angrily.

“Fuck, this is all I do anymore,” Jackson growls.

“Understandable, your body is undergoing a tremendous physical change … I’m actually rather surprised that you haven’t collapsed before now,” Fenris comments lightly.

“Lucky me,” Jackson grumbles. “I can’t afford to … he might … ask for me … or something.”

A knock at the door pulls Fenris’s attention from Jackson. When he opens it, Sheriff Stilinski stands there. He sighs.

“Kid, you look like hell.”

Jackson shrugs. “Yeah? Feel it too.”

“Come on, let’s get you home,” John offers.

“I can’t … I can’t leave him,” Jackson protests again. Why no one understands this he doesn’t know.

“Yes, you _can_ , Jackson,” a voice says behind the sheriff.

Jackson groans when he sees his battalion chief, Alan Deaton. “Chief, I –“

“No excuses, Jackson. You aren’t any good to anyone, least of all Stiles, if you collapse. Isaac’s here. He’s under orders from me to get you home, in the shower and into bed. You are _not_ to return to this hospital for 48 hours,” Deaton says sternly.

Jackson’s eyes widen. “Forty-eight hours? I can’t do that! He –“

John steps close and puts his hands on Jackson’s shoulders. He winces at the tension there. “Jackson … I know my son. You are public enemy #1 right now. I wish things were different, but he isn’t going to see reason on this – he won’t accept what’s quite literally in front of his face because he doesn’t _want_ to. If you keep pushing the issue, you’ll just make things worse.”

Jackson looks bleakly at the sheriff. “It can get _worse_ than this?”

* * *

Later, at home, Jackson lies on his couch, curled under a quilt made for him by Boyd’s mom years ago. He has no tears left to cry. Sleep eludes him and he only pretended to take the sleeping pill prescribed to him by Dr. Fenris before Isaac left.

Jackson runs his fingers over the marks on his face and tries to imagine that it’s Stiles touching him. He doesn’t answer his phone when it buzzes. He just drifts mentally. He can’t see past the yawning hole in front of him brought on by his soulmate’s refusal to accept the bond between them.

Jackson replays the accident in his head trying to find a different way out of the predicament but logic asserts itself time and again. He can’t see how Derek could have survived without sacrificing Stiles. Maybe if he’d let them pull Stiles out and he’d shoved Derek from the passenger side, he could have forced the werewolf out the other side. Of course, then _he_ would have died, which would have left Stiles in a bad way because the bond would have formed and been torn apart all in a split second. In his weakened condition, it could very well have killed the young man.

Jackson ponders that for a moment and then something occurs to him. Stiles is in the hospital. He’s awake and stable … all his wounds are healing at the usual human rate. He’s surrounded by doctors and nurses who would be able to help him if he suffered a sudden crisis. Stiles is as safe as he can be for the moment.

Jackson is out of his cocoon and hunting around for his ambo-bag in an instant. He finds what he’s looking for in the form of small vials carrying the most common forms of wolfsbane. They’re standard supplies for first aid for werewolves injured or poisoned because burning the dried herb causes a reverse reaction in a werewolf’s blood. It triggers the healing factor and pushes the poison out of the system. He takes his rescue knife and gathers everything into the bathroom.

Jackson knows he’s being driven by his emotions but he can’t see past the darkness gathering at the edge of his mind. A single kind word from Stiles and he would endure Hell itself if it meant Stiles might one day accept their bond. Unfortunately, the sheriff’s words made it plain that forgiveness was not on the horizon where Stiles was concerned. He double-checks his apartment to make sure everything is in place and then he sits down with his notebook. It takes him a minute to formulate the note, but after he begins to write, he finds the words flow easily.

* * *

_Whoever finds me, I’m sorry. No one deserves to deal with this but I can’t control that piece. So … sorry, I guess._

_It probably seems like the coward’s way out but it just occurred to me that if I leave now, Stiles can recover and move on. I’m the wrench in the works that doesn’t really need to be there and, if I’m perfectly honest, I can’t take this anymore. It hurts too fucking much knowing that my soulmate hates me and probably wishes I was dead anyway._

_I don’t blame Stiles – he lost everything in that wreck. Derek was his mate – words on paper and ceremonies don’t mean a damn thing. Derek and Stiles were mates. Read that and believe it, people. No one should have to survive their mate. And no one should have to deal with finding out that the person that let that happen is their soulmate. I wish Stiles still didn’t know but he does and it’s just one more reason I need to not be here. _

_To my brothers at the firehouse – take care of Stiles like you always did me. We’ve all seen families torn apart in our line of work and you know what that can do to a person. He’s going to need all the support he can get so I expect my family, my pack to look out for him. For me, guys. Please._

_To Stiles -- for what little time this bond existed, I met a lot of people who love you and would probably kill for you. Your buddy Scott is probably going to throw a party when he finds out I’m gone. That’s ok – brothers should be protective like that. You sound like an amazing person and you might call bullshit on me, but I think I honestly fell in love. Maybe it was just the bond, but whatever. I hope what I’m about to do releases you so that you can find some sort of peace._

_Jax_

* * *

Jackson signs the letter and puts it in an envelope. He writes “To Whoever Finds Me” on the front and leaves it on his kitchen table. He runs the water in the bathtub as hot as he can stand it. He locks the front door and wedges a chair under the doorknob. It won’t stop a werewolf, but he wants as many delays as possible just in case someone decides to check on him before the deed is done. He locks the bathroom door and does the same before stripping and slipping into the steaming water. He wrinkles his nose at the smell of the wolfsbane before making three long cuts down his arms from wrist to elbow and pressing the herb into the cuts. Black lines immediately begin to travel his arms and he snarls with pain as the bleeding begins in earnest. He wraps self-sticking gauze around the arm and sinks it into the hot water. He does the same with the other arm and lets it fall into the tub. The water is turning a sickly pink with swirls of black. Jackson feels lightheaded as the wolfsbane keeps him from healing. He bleeds silently and tears stream down his face. He knows he’s freeing Stiles but his heart is still breaking – he’s scared and lonely.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles,” Jackson whispers.

* * *

Stiles wakes up screaming. His father is there, holding him but Stiles can’t breathe. He feels like his heart is going to hammer its way out of his chest. He frantically looks at both arms and can’t figure out why they feel like they’re burning from the inside out.

“Make it stop make it stop … daddy, please make it stop _hurting_!” Stiles begs.

Scott, who’d gone down the hall to get some water, bursts into the room. “Stiles! What is it? What --?”

Nurses and Dr. Fenris race into the room at the alarm. John and Scott are forced outside by the medical team and stand in the hallway in barely controlled terror as Stiles bucks on the bed in agony.   His screams are so loud.  John runs a hand through his thinning hair when he sees Stiles pressing his hand against the right side of his head.  He curses and jerks his mic down from his shoulder. 

“It’s his soulmate," the sheriff yells.  "Something is happening to Jackson!" 

As he barks orders into his comm, John Stilinski watches his son go limp under sedation and prays he can reach the emotionally shattered firefighter whose soul is linked to his son in time.

* * *

Jordan Parrish is relatively new to the Beacon Hills sheriff’s department but he’s proving himself very capable in tough situations. He’s closest to Jackson Whittemore’s house so he answers the callout.   He bangs on the door and when he hears no response, he kicks it in.  The chair Jackson wedged in place goes flying.  Jordan's particular brand of supernatural hasn't been identified in his lifetime yet, but he's got the strength of any werewolf and then some.  He's not afraid of whatever intruder he might find.

Gun drawn, the deputy enters the house calling out to Jackson.  The house is silent but a horrific stench permeates the air.  He follows it to the bathroom and again bangs on the wood door hard enough to leave dents.  No response from within and Jordan can't make out a heartbeat.  He takes a deep breath and holds it as he kicks in the second barrier.  It gives way immediately, scattering splinters and slivers everywhere. 

Jordan holsters his weapon and falls to his knees beside the bathtub.  The water is foul with blood and some sort of black ichor.  The young man in the water is naked and his arms are wrapped in gauze soaked in blood and the dark contaminant.  Jordan lifts the werewolf out and lays him on the floor with a hastily folded towel for a pillow.  He does quick rescue breathing but nothing seems to respond.  Scooping up the body, he walks outside where he's greeted by the sight of a firefighter rig and an ambulance.  Jordan suspects that either Jackson's firehouse has been monitoring the police bands or the sheriff called them after putting out his own call.

 A tall, dark firefighter - Boyd, his brain supplies -- runs up and upon seeing Jackson's state, howls.  The mournful sound ripples out and is answered by the others.

The ambulance paramedic runs up with a gurney and Jackson is laid on it immediately.  Liam cuts away the gauze and all the weres jerk back at the scent.  Liam's focus is absolute as he digs in his own pack for the wolfsbane to undo the poisoning.  Liam doesn’t look at the faded marks on Jackson’s face that recall the same marks he saw on Stiles after the wreck.  He knows that some are so light they barely show up against the too white skin.  He whines softly as he works.

"Please don't die, Jax ... not today ... you've got to fight ... please," Liam begs.

Jordan takes the wolfsbane when Liam finds it and holds it close to the wound.  "Trust me ... tell me when."

Liam nods and pulls open one of the cuts.  Pus and liquid seep out.  Jordan concentrates and the wolfsbane disintegrates into ash in a small flame.  He pours the herb from his hand into the wound.  Jackson's body jerks violently and the blonde wolf sucks in a pained gasp of air. 

"Boyd, help me restrain him!" Liam orders.

The larger wolf holds his friend and pack brother down as Liam repeats the process on the other arm.  Jackson's body convulses on the gurney and his eyes zero in on Liam.  He jerks the smaller wolf to him and his eyes glow electric blue as he begs.

"... _let...me...die..."_


	4. Recovering

Jackson swims through dark water. He can see light above him but the water is hard to move through – it feels viscous. He scissors his legs and tries to push his body through it to the light but it’s so hard he doesn’t feel like he’s making any headway. He hears voices from above but they are muffled and impossible to make out. He stops moving and for long moments just floats in the water, letting it pull him back down again. Something sharp and painful lances through the water to wrap itself around him… bright flashes of light sear into his vision and then he’s breaking the water’s surface with a huge gasp of air.

Jackson falls back onto the exam table, shivering as his wolf metabolism fights to undo the damage he caused. He screams with pain as the wolfsbane leaves his body and it begins to heal. The concerned face of Melissa McCall moves into view and she gently strokes the side of his face – not his marked side.

“Jackson … Jackson, can you hear me?”

He nods although that nearly makes him want to scream again.

“Easy … you’ve got to relax, Jackson. You’ve got to let your body fix itself,” Melissa urges.

“Why’m … here …?” Jackson mumbles.

“You’re here because we found you before you could finish what you were doing, you stupid kid!” Melissa barks.

Tears well in her eyes as she looks down at the stricken face of a young man put in a horrific position. She sighs and gives him a watery smile.

“There, you’ve gone and made me yell at you, Jackson. Happy?” Melissa teases gently.

Jackson whimpers. “S-s-sssrry … hurtsss …”

“I know it does, but you can’t give up. And you can’t do this again, sweetheart,” Melissa chides softly. “You nearly killed Stiles.”

Jackson closes his eyes. He keeps making things worse and it’s beyond him to know how to fix it. He lets go and slides into a deep sleep.

* * *

Jackson awakens with a shout. He looks around wildly until memory returns and he understands where he is – just as two things assault him.

The first is a scent … a particular musk edged with sweat salt that identifies itself in his brain as Stiles. For a werewolf, scent is so much more than just a smell and Jackson lets the layers of his soulmate’s physical being drift into his olfactory sense. From now on, Jackson knows this will be ‘Stiles’ no matter how many other smells overlap it. He will be able to track this scent anywhere in the world and through it, he will know if his soulmate is healthy, happy or hurt. Jackson’s wolf growls possessively within him, demanding that he cover himself with this smell and blend it with his own. Jackson sighs at the thought and his body warms. He feels his eyes glow in response and this brings on the second assault.

“Slow your roll, there, wolfboy.”

The voice is sharp and disdainful, making Jackson’s wolf pull back in confusion. It is _mate_ and _Stiles_ to accompany the scent but there is little comfort to be found in the rhythm of Stiles’ speech. Jackson comes back to Earth with a crash he’s surprised doesn’t shake the hospital to its foundations. He turns his head slowly and sees another hospital bed beside his own. Stiles lies in it, legs still in frames to keep them immobile. His torso is bandaged tightly for the rib breaks. He doesn’t look at Jackson, he just talks to the ceiling.

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles says dully.

Jackson closes his eyes. “No argument here.”

Stiles turns his head. “You can’t … you don’t even know me.”

Jackson lets his head rotate back to center and stares at the tiles above his bed. “No, I don’t.”

“You made me sound like some sort of – I don’t know … tragic heroine or something,” Stiles mutters.

“Not your fault all this shit happened,” Jackson replies.

“Why?”

Jackson doesn’t ask ‘Why _what_ ’. He knows what Stiles wants to know. He can feel the confusion through their very limited connection. He can feel the pain. His wolf is too weak yet to bother pushing him.

“I’m an asshole and a coward, what can I say? I wanted out and you were in the hospital already. Perfect timing,” Jackson explains finally.

“Bullshit,” Stiles returns.

Jackson says nothing and they remain silent for a long time. Jackson almost drifts off when Stiles shifts on his bed.

“You don’t know me,” Stiles says.

“We covered that and you are correct. I don’t know you at all,” Jackson answers.

A surge of anger hits Jackson then, sharp and hot. His wolf whines and tries to retreat but it can’t. Jackson’s eyes are flaring blue when he looks over at Stiles.

“Stop it,” Jackson growls.

“Why?” Stiles asks.

“Because I already know how you feel about me … I don’t need it shoved down my fucking throat,” Jackson snaps.

“Not what I meant, wolfboy. Why?”

Jackson’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t know Stiles’ game and he won’t play. He looks away and the raw emotion hits him again. He growls and turns back, his wolf pissed off now. His eyes gleam. Stiles doesn’t look away.

“Maybe you’ve heard – I’m a stubborn asshole when I want to be. _Why?”_

“You’re not the only hard-head in the room, Stiles. Leave me alone.”

“Why.”

“…”

“Why.”

“…”

“ _Why._ ”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Stilinski.”

“ _Why._ ”

“Stop it.”

“ _WHY._ ”

“I’m not –“

“ _ **WHY?”**_

Jackson’s wolf surfaces and his features shift into his beta form. His growl is fierce and loud as he shouts, “Because I’m so fucking in love with you it hurts to _breathe!_ I don’t want to be here if you hate me, Stiles. Do you get it? Is that clear enough? I don’t want to _live_ knowing I took your mate and you’ll never forgive me for that … I _can’t_ live knowing that you hate me!” Jackson sobs. “All I want to do is hold you and take your pain and if I could go back in time and die in his place I would but I can’t! I can’t make it better! I can’t fix it!”

Jackson curls into a tight ball with his back to Stiles. Sobs wrack his body and he barely notices the nurse that comes in to sedate him. He hears a shout and immediately recognizes Stiles’ voice.

“Stop!” Stiles’ shouts. “Just wait – Jackson … _Jackson, look at me_.”

Jackson’s wolf is too weak to ignore its mate. He rolls over slowly, dull gaze focusing on Stiles.

Stiles inhales sharply at the utter desolation he sees in the strange blue-green eyes. He feels something pulling at him and he chews on his lower lip. He reaches out his hand. Jackson looks at it blankly and Stiles gestures toward himself. Jackson whines and shakes his head, pulling tightly into himself. Stiles swallows and nods.

“It’s ok, Jackson … I want you to.”

“You don’t … I feel it …”

Stiles shakes his head. “That’s because I don’t know what I’m doing … but I know … I know I don’t want you to hurt like this, Jackson. I don’t … it’s not your fault. _None_ of this is your fault. Come on, wolfboy, help me out here.”

Jackson looks at the nurse who frowns but gives a curt nod. She helps him slide out of the bed and then helps Stiles move over just enough to let Jackson lie down. It’s cramped and the only way it will work is with Jackson pressed to Stiles’ side. The blonde wolf tries instead to hold himself stiff like a board on his side, not touching Stiles when the young man sighs loudly and pulls Jackson against him. The sudden contact makes them both gasp. Jackson’s wolf takes the lead and he presses his nose against Stiles’ chest, inhaling deeply. Stiles waves off the nurse impatiently and she leaves.

Jackson’s fingers curl into Stiles shirt. He keeps as much of his weight off Stiles as he can with his hips canted back to prevent contact with Stiles’ broken legs. Stiles shifts minutely until they find a relatively comfortable position. Stiles feels Jackson’s hand move to lie lightly on his bicep and then pain begins to siphon away. He drags in a shaky breath and exhales unevenly.

“Oh … oh that’s awesome,” he murmurs as the pervasive ache in his legs fades.

Jackson keeps it up until he smells the pain edging Stiles’ scent dissipate. His mate relaxes under him and Jackson noses against Stiles’ chest, content.

Stiles lies still, soaking the warmth of Jackson’s body and the strange steady _hum_ of something inside him. He doesn’t know what it is but it’s satisfied that everything is right with the world – something Stiles resists because his lover is still dead and the man who let him die is now in his arms calling himself Stiles’ soulmate. And yet.

The man inhaling against Stiles’ shirt like a cocaine addict sucking up a line is also the man who saved his life and tried to kill himself in an effort to release Stiles from a life of pain. Twisted logic notwithstanding, Stiles knows Jackson will do whatever he has to in order to ‘make it better’. He suddenly understands that if he told Jackson to throw himself out the window, the wolf would be half-way through the glass before the words left his mouth. Stiles takes a deep breath and stiffens. Jackson looks up, his eyes glowing but unfocused.

“Stiles?”

Stiles tugs Jackson up and inhales the blonde's hair. A wave of lightness washes over him and his head falls back to the pillow. Jackson grunts knowingly, knowing the link between them just hit Stiles straight between the eyes.


	5. Forward, then Back

Jackson is greeted by silent hugs and quiet acceptance when he walks back into his squad house.  Boyd’s hug makes his ribs creak and lasts for a long minute before the wolf roughly tousles Jackson’s hair and walks away.  Jackson chuckles to himself as he stows his gear.  When he walks into the break room, he locks eyes with Liam.  The younger wolf doesn’t say anything; he just puts his coffee down and walks into the bay.  Jackson sighs.  The paramedic was one of the conspicuous absences from Jackson’s visitors in the hospital.  Isaac pats Jackson’s shoulder.

“It really crushed him thinking you’d just check out like that, buddy,” Isaac explains.

Jackson nods.  He’s been in mandatory counseling during his month suspension.  Jackson knows he’s lucky he still has a job – extenuating circumstances everyone understands helped but Jackson’s not an idiot.  He knows this event is going to shadow him for the rest of his career.

Jackson goes into the bay and finds Liam where he usually does – on top of his ambulance staring at the ceiling.  He sits down beside his friend but doesn’t say anything.  For a long while they sit in silence and Jackson thinks maybe he’s going to have to be the first to talk but then Liam speaks.

“You’re an idiot.”

Jackson huffs with a wry grin.  “I’ve been so informed by many people lately.”

Liam sits up and faces Jackson, his eyes shining with tears.  “You fucker, it’s not funny.”

Jackson shakes his head, feeling his own eyes burn.  “No, it’s not funny at all, kiddo.  I just couldn’t … I couldn’t see past the pain, Liam.  I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have called me!  _That’s_ what you could have done!” Liam barks.

Jackson nods.  “I know, Liam … I know.  I just – I screwed up.  At the time it seemed like it would have been best for everyone if I just wasn’t here.”

Liam suddenly throws his arms around Jackson and presses his nose against the older werewolf’s neck.  Because of their job, they’re essentially pack and Jackson’s pain hit all his fellows hard.  He returns the hug and nuzzles gratefully, offering what apology and comfort he can. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, pup.  I never meant to hurt any of you like this,” Jackson murmurs against the young man’s hair.

Liam pulls back and sighs, wiping his eyes.  “Are you – are you ok now?”

Jackson climbs back down to the bay floor.  He shrugs.  “I guess?  Not planning on doing something that stupid again but … it’s still not easy.”

Liam leaps down making Jackson grin.  They walk back to the sleeping quarters.  Jackson flops on his bunk.  Liam sits at the foot.  He frowns.

“Is Stiles still not accepting the bond?”

Jackson shakes his head.  “He’s like me … has his good and bad days.  He’s supposed to get his leg braces off this week.  After my shift, I’ll be going over to spend a couple of days with him while they make sure everything is alright.”

Liam sighs.  “It’s not your fault, Jackson.”

Jackson chuckles.  “I know that, pup.  My counseling sessions are helping with that … it’s still hard.  I mean, my wolf wants him happy and safe but the one thing that would make him happiest is completely out of my ability to give him.  It’s fucked up no matter how you look at it, Liam.”

Jackson is spared any further emotional discussion by the bell sounding.  He goes out on the call with his squad, happy to be back doing what he loves.

* * *

Stiles tenses when he hears the doorbell.  His dad glances at him before he goes to open the door.  Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Not like he doesn’t know we’re home, dad.”

“Are you up for it was my main concern, smart-ass,” John Stilinski retorts.  He opens the door.  “Come on in, Jackson.  My son is feeling much better today.”

Jackson’s lips twitch slightly as he nods.  The sheriff steps past him and looks around the door.  “I’ll be at the station if you need me.”

Stiles waves his dad off.  As the door shuts, however, he gets up and quickly walks to it again.  Pulling it open, Stiles shouts, “Love you, dad.  Be safe today.”

John nods with a smile and drives off.  Stiles shuts the door and goes back to the living room.  Jackson stands with his bag over one shoulder before it becomes apparent Stiles isn’t going to say anything.  Dropping his bag, he wanders into the living room and sits on the end opposite Stiles, who is stretching his legs out on the ottoman and flipping through TV channels.  He fights to stay where he is – his wolf wants to scent Stiles and pull any discomfort from the young man’s legs.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Stiles offers.  “My dad asked you, not me.”

“I know that.  I want to be here,” Jackson replies.

Stiles looks over at him.  “Why?”

Jackson bites down on a growl.  Always the ‘why’ questioning – like Stiles doesn’t know the inattention to the link between them drives Jackson’s wolf insane most days.  He wonders idly if maybe it’s different for humans.  Maybe Stiles doesn’t feel the soul bond as sharply as Jackson does.  He swallows his irritation and responds.

“You’re my soulmate, Stiles.  I want to make sure you’re ok.”

Stiles raises a leg and wiggles his toes.  “Peachy, see?  You saw I have full mobility.  My ribs are good too –“ Stiles stretches from side to side.  “No worries.  So …”

Jackson regards Stiles coolly.  “Good to know – but just to be on the safe side since humans don’t heal as quickly as weres …”  He lets his voice drift into silence to tease Stiles.

Stiles shrugs.  “Suit yourself.  I’ve got company coming over so you’re on your own.”

Jackson blinks.  “Wait, what?  Stiles … I thought we were going to use this time to –“

“To what?” Stiles asks, pausing in his channel surfing.  “To ‘get to know each other’?  To try and make something out of this pseudo-relationship?”  He snorts.  “Whatever.  Look, I already said I don’t want to consciously hurt you but we are _never_ going to be anything more than what we got going on now.  And I don’t even know what the hell that is, honestly.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed.  “Sounds like a challenge … or a threat.”

“Dude, what do you _want_ from me?  Just because we tripped over each other and _this_ happened –“ Stiles wiggles his fingers at the right side of his face.  “—that doesn’t mean I got little heart eyes and heard violins playing in the background.  I’m not in love with you, Jackson – it’s not like that for me.”

Jackson exhales slowly, calming his wolf which is racing in circles trying to understand _why_ the person it knows as ‘mate’ is rejecting them. 

“Stiles, I’m not an idiot, I know how you feel but you can’t deny you feel this bond too … you can’t just sit there and tell yourself it doesn’t exist because it does.  It’s real and it’s not going away any time soon,” Jackson says reasonably.  “You can’t ignore it all your life.”

“People do and get along just fine,” Stiles counters.

“I don’t want to live my life that way, Stiles,” Jackson says.

Stiles looks at Jackson coldly.  “Then you better figure out what you’re going to do, wolfboy, because I’m not in love with you and I never will be.  You’re still the guy who let the love of my life die when you could have saved him.”

Jackson stands and goes to grab his bag.  He pauses at the door, shaking and wishing the tears would just dry up and stop.  Wishing his heart would just stop wanting something so precious and so very beyond him.  He clears his throat.

“I’ve been over that wreck scenario a thousand different ways, Stiles.  There was no way to save everyone … I wish to God there had been,” Jackson says softly.  He looks at Stiles.  “The only way I could have saved Derek would have been to die myself and while I get that you wish things had gone that way, think about this – we’re soulmates.  No amount of pretending is going to change that – the science is on our fucking faces.”  Jackson stands straighter, refusing to cower from the truth.  “I was right there … I would have pulled you from the wreck and handed you off.  I would have shoved Derek from the passenger side and I think I could have forced him out the driver’s side.  He would have been hurt but he would have healed.  But you would have soulbonded and lost your bond in the same moment.  And even as tough as you are, that sort of physical and emotional stress would probably have killed you – you were just too injured.  Hell, Liam thought he was going to lose you anyway because you were grieving Derek.”  Jackson opens the door.  “As much as you say you loved him, could you have willingly done that to your mate?  Condemned him to a life alone without you?”

Jackson turns to leave and finds himself staring at Scott McCall.  The other werewolf approached while Jackson was too distracted to notice.  The aggression pouring off the young man’s scent is more than Jackson’s stressed wolf can take.

“Back off,” Jackson warns, his voice going rough as his wolf surfaces.

Scott’s eyes glow gold.  “He wants _me_ here – I’m family _and_ his pack.  You’re nothing to him.”

Jackson’s growl is low and dangerous.  He’s tired and too emotional right now which he’ll later blame for suddenly dropping his bag and shoving Scott.  The other wolf is back in his face in an instant, both of them in their beta forms, clawed hands curling at their sides.  The growls are savage as they circle one another.  Jackson’s blood is hot.  If he were human, he might be able to rationalize Stiles’ rejection and walk away but he’s a werewolf.  His beast is a part of his very core and it will not be disrespected by this _interloper_.  Jackson’s eyes glow hot neon blue as he faces off with Scott.

“Do not make me hurt you,” Jackson growls.

“Jackson, no!”

Jackson turns, his attention torn away to Stiles in an instant.  After years of being mated, he _might_ be able to resist the siren call of Stiles’ voice but it’s impossible right now.  Unfortunately, Scott strikes in that instant, sending Jackson crashing to the porch bleeding from the hit.  Jackson surges up with a roar but a soft voice stops him.

“Oh god, Jackson, don’t hurt him … please.”

Jackson stops but doesn’t take his eyes off Scott.  He forces his wolf down by will alone and his clawed hand is now just a regular human hand with curled fingers.  His jaw muscles twitch as he glares at Scott who just glares back, still in beta form.  It takes everything he has to retreat and worse, walk away from Stiles.  His hands tremble as he picks up his bag.  He looks over at Stiles.

“I’m done apologizing, Stiles.  I didn’t do this to you and I sure as hell didn’t ask for it,” Jackson says.  “I love you and I’ll be whatever you need me to be … but you loved Derek so you know the wolf won’t let me just abandon you.  I can’t do that but I can give you your space.”

It’s a hard speech – after all, he’s done nothing _but_ give Stiles space since the hospital.  Still, Jackson feels he needs to re-emphasize it.  Stiles looks at him and Jackson sees confusion playing across the young man’s face.  It’s the first emotion beyond disinterest and anger Jackson’s seen.  He walks to his car and somehow manages to drive home without getting in a wreck.  He’s not ready for the two visitors sitting on his own porch.  His body tenses again when he scents another were – this one an alpha.

“Easy, puppy … I’m not here to hurt you.”

The tall dark-haired woman stands and a younger, more slender woman moves beside her.  She’s human and nervous.  Their faces tell him they are bonded.  He frowns.

“What _do_ you want?” Jackson asks.

 _“_ We want to help,” the human girl says.

Jackson cocks his head to one side.  “Help with what?”

The human steps forward and smiles shyly.  “My name is Allison Hale … my ex-mate is Scott McCall.”

The werewolf slides an arm around her mate.  “I’m Laura Hale.  Derek was my brother and Stiles would have been my brother-in-law had fate not intervened.”

Jackson regards them steadily.  “Are you here to tell me I should just walk away from Stiles?  Let him grieve your brother in peace?  Leave him alone when he obviously doesn’t want me?”

Laura shakes her head sadly.  “Stiles will grieve my brother for the rest of his days, I suspect.”

“Like Scott’s going to grieve _her_?” Jackson asks, nodding toward Allison.

“Yes, exactly.  Stiles and my brother mated despite all warnings to the contrary like Allison and Scott.  When we bonded … I would not wish that on anyone.  My brother – it would have destroyed Derek if you had bonded to Stiles while he still lived.”

Jackson nods.  “Well, he got off easy if you ask me.  Stiles will never stop loving him and I will never stop loving Stiles.  So there you go … we’re all fucked.  At least _you_ two found each other.”

“Jackson,” Laura says softly but with the alpha lurking just beneath.

Jackson flinches.  He unlocks his door and turns to Derek’s sister.  He can see traces of the younger alpha that he met for so short a time.  He hangs his head and shakes it.

“I can’t compete with a ghost, alpha.  Your brother … I can’t be him,” Jackson says softly.

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Laura replies.  “Derek was amazing but from all I’ve learned about you recently … you sound a great deal _like_ Derek.”

“But I’m _not_ him … and he’s all that Stiles wants,” Jackson murmurs.  The words make his heart shrivel.

“Stiles fights because he was so certain that he and Derek were meant to be forever,” Laura says.  “He feels like he’s betraying Derek.”

Jackson looks at her.  “Look, Laura … I will be whatever Stiles needs me to be.  ‘Absent’ seems to be the choice of the moment.  So I’m going to be absent.  Now if you’ll excuse me … I have to go stare at the wall for a while.”

* * *

Laura and Allison stare at Jackson’s door for a few long minutes after the young wolf has gone inside and locked it.  Laura can hear him shuffling through the house and finally collapsing on his bed.  She hears the long sigh and the soft whisper he knows will reach Laura’s ears.

“Please let me cry in peace, alpha.  I _really_ don’t have it in me to toss you off my porch tonight.”

Laura smiles and whispers her response.  “Sleep well, young one.  Don’t give up hope just yet.”


	6. Strange Bedfellows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jackson finds some much needed support.

Jackson walks into the sheriff’s station on Tuesday as he’s done for the past month and a half.  He nods at the officer on duty – Haigh.

“Is the sheriff in?”

Haigh smirks.  “Time to drop off your ‘please love me’ basket?”

Jackson keeps his expression flat.  He’s never liked Haigh.  The man is full human and an ass.  His snide comments about any supernatural being cross the line more often than not and Haigh is not well liked by his peers.

“Problem, Jackson?”

Both men turn to see Deputy Parrish standing by the front desk.  Jackson smiles and shrugs the shoulder holding his backpack.  Parrish nods, understanding.  He frowns at Haigh who has gone back to sending emails or whatever the man does when he mans the front desk.

“Sheriff Stilinski is out on patrol right now.  I can let you in his office if you want to leave it?”

“Sure, that’ll work,” Jackson replies.

In an effort to court Stiles, Jackson has been leaving small gifts with his father.  Movie tickets, gift cards for music, a small carving of a wolf he worked on during the nights he can’t sleep because the bond was buzzing with Stiles’ pain … it’s one of the coping mechanisms Jackson has devised to keep himself sane.  Today he’s brought a gift card for Stiles’ favored fast food chain.  He plans to leave it and get himself home for the duration of the full moon.  Jackson knows it isn’t healthy but every cycle it gets harder to control his wolf’s longing for its mate.  He doesn’t want to bring his pack down by smelling so miserable.

Jackson puts the small box near the sheriff’s keyboard and leaves a short note.  The sheriff has been kind in not telling Jackson whether or not his gifts are well-received or not.  It’s enough that he takes them to Stiles.  Jackson promised to keep his distance but as he warned Stiles, his wolf won’t let him just walk away.  The bond is far too strong for that.  He watches as Parrish locks the door again and puts his hand out.  The deputy shakes it.

“Thanks for the assist,” Jackson offers.

“No problem,” Parrish replies.  “How are you doing with … everything?”

Jackson shrugs.  “Fine, I suppose.  Talk to you later?”

Parrish nods and watches the young man leave the station.

* * *

The moon is crisp and clear in the night sky when Parrish pulls up to Jackson’s house.  He remembers all too well the last time he was there.  He remembers the smell and he remembers the agonized pleading of the wounded werewolf begging to be allowed to die.  Jordan swallows and rings the doorbell.  After a long wait, Jackson opens the door.

Parrish’s eyebrows travel up in surprise.  The young wolf is only wearing a pair of close fitting boxer briefs.  He’s in his beta form – his facial features are more pronounced and his normally close-cropped hair was lush and creeping down his jawline in thick tufts, obscuring all but a few of the soulmarks.  He snarls at the deputy.

“What are you doing here?”

Parrish looks Jackson up and down.  The wolf, already fit and lean, is too thin.  His skin is taut along his ribs.  Jordan snorts and pushes into the living room.  Jackson tries to block him, but Parrish is too quick.  He has the door shut and Jackson pinned against it in a blink. 

“I’m here to make sure you’re alright and possibly to push you into running.”

Jackson growls and shoves Jordan off him.  The deputy goes unresisting but follows Jackson to his couch.  His senses tell him Jackson’s wolf is close to the surface and the young man is fighting instinct.  Jackson curls up on his couch and whines.  The sound makes Jordan’s chest tighten.

“Jackson, this isn’t good for you … you _need_ to run.  You _need_ to let the moon take you tonight.”

Jackson shakes his head.  He wants to … oh how he would _love_ to shift and be on all-fours underneath the pale light that fills him with such joy and unbelievable fire.  But he has no formal pack and coming back to an empty house would make things so much worse. 

“You’ve got an invitation from a pack, Jackson.  You know this,” Parrish nudges him gently.

Jackson makes an alarmed sound, looking over at Parrish anxiously and shaking his head.  The deputy moves to sit beside him, his hand gently brushing down Jackson’s arm.

“It’s ok … they know.  Stiles won’t be there … he’ll be with Scott.  You need to free your wolf, Jackson.  You’re going to end up where I found you the last time if you don’t and you know it.”

Jackson’s whine is harsh and it cuts at Parrish.  The young wolf looks up at the deputy and tiredly nods.

Jackson knows he has to run … has to feel the moonlight coursing through his veins with the wolf.  It’s just part and parcel of being a werewolf.  He only wishes Stiles would be there with him.  Parrish pushes at his shoulder.

“Let the wolf run, Jackson.  Everything else will take care of itself.”

Jackson stops fighting.

* * *

The blonde wolf shifts the minute his feet touch the ground at the edge of the Preserve.  He looks at Parrish who smiles.  Jackson sees a glow in the other man’s eyes and _whufs_ in confusion.  Parrish’s grin turns mischievous. 

“Oh you thought you were running _alone?_ Guess again, buddy,” Jordan chuckles.

Jackson paces impatiently as the deputy pulls off his jacket and reveals a tight-fitting black tank.  He pulls on a pair of fingerless gloves and rolls his neck.  He scuffs the hard-terrain runners Jackson hadn’t noticed.

“C’mon … I’ll race you to the ravine,” Parrish says before taking off.

Jackson’s eyes widen as he watches the deputy race into the dark trees.  He follows and finds out that whatever Parrish is … it makes him as fast as or faster than most wolves Jackson knows.  He bears down and just manages to catch the deputy as they reach the ravine and then turn to run parallel to the edge.  It’s been too long and Jackson’s wolf surges forward, wiping out any conscious thoughts and worries.  It leaves him in the _now_ and it’s the best he’s felt in months.  The ground beneath his paws, the scents in the air … the stretch and burn of his muscles as he pounds after Parrish in an attempt to pass him … it’s all heady and wonderful.  He howls and thrills at the return sounds – every wolf in Beacon Hills runs the preserve on the full-moon.  He hears his colleagues from the fire house and answers them joyfully.

Hours pass and eventually, Jackson and Jordan circle back to the truck.  Jackson reluctantly lets his wolf retreat as he shifts back to human, panting softly as he pulls on the sweats he grabbed before he left the house.  The ride back to his place is quiet.  When Jordan pulls up to the curb, Jackson looks over and grins.

“Thanks.  Tonight was … good.  Really good,” Jackson says.

“You can still come to the main house with me … I promise Stiles won’t be there.  They always do the pack thing – binge eating junk food and puppy piles.”

Jackson wishes briefly that he was brave enough to try but he shakes his head.  “I … I can’t.  Not yet.  I appreciate it though and maybe next cycle.  He won’t be there but his scent will be and I don’t think I can handle that right now.”

Jordan nods.  “When you’re ready.”

“Why’d you do this … come over to make me go out on a run?”

Parrish looks down at his hands.  “I … the Hales took me in even though I’m not a wolf.  They’ve given me a family.  I saw Stiles and Derek together.  When I heard Derek was dead and you were … that you’d bonded to him … I knew it would be hard.  But finding you in that tub?  I couldn’t imagine anyone would survive that kind of pain.” Jordan looks up at Jackson.  “You’ve got a strong heart to be dealing with this, Jackson.  It makes me wish … anyway.”

“Do you want to come in?” Jackson asks.

Parrish frowns and looks up.  “What?  Jackson you don’t –“

Jackson sighs.  “I don’t want to be alone tonight, Jordan.  I can’t … I love Stiles with everything I am but like you’ve been reminding me all night – my wolf _needs_ to be with someone.  It can’t ever be anything and if that’s what you’re looking for don’t come in – I don’t want anyone to hurt like I do.”

Parrish smiles.  “Yeah, I think a shower is in order at least, brother.”

_Brother_.  The word makes Jackson’s wolf pant contentedly.  In the end, they shower together, joking about nonsense and fall into bed, curled around each other.  It’s enough for now to make Jackson’s wolf happy and Jordan realizes sometime before he drifts off to sleep that maybe he’d needed this easy camaraderie as well.  Being part of a wolf pack but not a wolf is a hard thing … humans transition easily but Jordan has always felt out of place in the pile of bodies following a run.  Here he’s just Jordan and Jackson doesn’t balk at his scent.  Parrish smiles, curls around his new friend and sleeps without dreams.


	7. Here Comes the Sun

Jackson growls and lunges after the ball Liam tosses, his stick outstretched.  During slow times, they play lacrosse on the large grassy lawn beside their firehouse.  Jackson manages to snag the ball before landing hard on the ground.

“Nice catch,” a soft voice says from above him.

Jackson looks up to find he’s landed at the feet of a lovely brunette.  She offers her hand to help him up and he’s surprised by the strength in the grip.

“Thanks.  Can we help you?”

The young woman smiles and Jackson thinks half the males in his station would kill themselves to see that smile directed at him.

“I’m Kira Yukimura, your new squad member,” she replies.

Jackson snaps his fingers.  “That’s right … the thunder _kitsune_ , right?”

She nods.  “I’m impressed.  Most people don’t know the various varieties.”

Liam laughs as he walks up to introduce himself.  “Liam Dunbar – EMT.  And he’s been eagerly awaiting your arrival because he’s had his ass shocked the last two times we had to deal with live wire situations.”

Jackson groans.  “The last one wasn’t just me, jerk – Isaac had his furry tail fried too.”

Kira giggles and Jackson loves the sound.  Liam grins and they lead her into the station so she can meet the chief.  The rest of the teams take to her immediately.  Jackson’s grateful it’s just another normal day.

* * *

As his shift ends, Isaac grabs Jackson companionably around the neck.

“Pick-up game tonight?”

Jackson nods, scrolling through his texts.  “Yeah, sure thing.  Gotta run by the sheriff’s station and pick up Jordan.  Mind if he joins?”

Isaac snorts.  “And how are you two _not_ sleeping together?”

Jackson rolls his eyes and shoves Isaac away.  “Stop … it’s not like that and you know it.”

Boyd comes up behind them and tousles Jackson’s hair.  “What we know is that _he_ moved into _your_ house last month and _you_ smell like _him_.”

“Um, _yeah …_ it’s called ‘getting a roommate’ and of _course_ I smell like him since he _lives_ there,” Jackson says, annoyed.

“So you have to drive into work together?” Isaac asks innocently.

“I give up.  In case you haven’t noticed, _these_ –“ Jackson points at his face.  _“—_ are still nice and dark.  Which means I’m taken.”

Boyd and Isaac let the topic drop.  They tease but everyone knows that since Jordan and Jackson ran the Preserve together, they’ve spent most of their free time in each other’s company.  Jordan moved in with Jackson not long after and they insist that they’re just ‘good friends’.  No one understands since Jackson still leaves courting gifts for Stiles but they don’t press because since meeting Jordan, Jackson has been more like his old self.  He still gets quiet and pulls away some days but those times are growing less and less.

* * *

Jackson parks at the station and walks inside.  Haigh is nowhere to be seen which makes Jackson very happy.  He gets the ‘go ahead’ nod from the desk sergeant and heads to the sheriff’s office. 

He freezes in the hallway.  His eyes track wildly until he spots Stiles in his father’s office, hands moving in the air as he talks.  The sheriff does not look amused.  Jackson stares helplessly, unable to stop taking in every detail of Stiles’ movement.  He knows he’s going to be spotted in a minute if he doesn’t move, but he hasn’t _seen_ Stiles in weeks and his wolf is overcome.

“So … I can leave you hear gaping like a fish or I can drag your love-struck ass out the door and salvage _some_ of your dignity,” Jordan offers.

Jackson responds without looking away.  “Get me the hell out of here, _please_.”

Parrish wraps a muscular arm around Jackson’s shoulders and steers him back toward the door.  Jackson stares straight ahead with wide-blown eyes.  He doesn’t trust himself to even blink until they are outside and in his car with Jordan in the driver’s seat.  When they’ve managed to get a block down the road, Jackson releases a gasp of air and lets his head thump back against the headrest.

_“Fuck,”_ Jackson exhales. 

Parrish glances at his friend.  “I’m beginning to think I don’t want to find my soulmate … you look like hell.”

Jackson runs a hand down his face.  “I _feel_ like hell but … it’s not … when it’s good, there’s nothing like it.”

“Like you have a lot of experience in _that_ side of things,” Jordan mutters.

“Watch it … he’s –“

Parrish holds up his hand.  “I know, I know … he’s hurting.  I just wish he knew you were too.”

“He does.”

“He just doesn’t care.”

Jackson groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.  “C’mon, Jordan … we’ve been over this … it’s not easy for either of us.  He’s not a complete asshole … he helped me in the hospital.”

“And then he tossed you to the curb, Jax.  You _do_ know I can hear you cry yourself to sleep, right?”

Jackson snorts.  “Yeah, like it’s hard since we share the same bed, dumbass.”

Jordan smiles.  “Whatever … you know I’ve got your back but damn it hurts watching you go through this.  Especially knowing that if he even so much as flicked his little finger your direction you’d trample everything between you to get to him.”

Jackson blushes fiercely then knocks his head against the passenger-side window a few times.  “I’m pathetic, huh?”

Jordan nods as he parks the car at the lacrosse field.  “Yes, certifiably pathetic.”  He turns to look at Jackson.  “That’s why you have awesome guys like me and Danny to pick up all the glitter-encrusted pieces of your heart and shove you back out there for more.”

“You’re a dope,” Jackson grumbles without heat.

Parrish laughs as he gets out of the car and grabs his bag from the backseat.  “Yeah but you love me.  Hey, wanna freak them out again?”

Jackson nods.  Jordan leans back in the car and presses his mouth over Jackson’s.  They kiss deeply but Jordan’s mouth grows steadily warmer and then Jackson is pulling back with a cough.  Smoke drifts from both their nostrils and dissipates quickly in the warm breeze.  Jackson grins broadly knowing Boyd and Isaac will fall over themselves trying to figure out why his and Jordan’s scent smells like smoke but they never scent the tobacco in any cigarettes.

Jordan waves down Danny while Jackson gets his gear.  He knows his crew at the firehouse don’t understand but what he shares with Jordan keeps him from driving into a tree some late night.  They share a bed but there’s nothing but warm bodies curled comfortably around each other – no different than when he joins other wolves after the full-moon runs in the Preserve.  It’s simple human touch, something his wolf needs desperately and something Jordan Parrish is more than willing to provide.

Not to say that Jordan is _shy_ about wishing out loud for more but he knows that would destroy everything they share between them.  The soulbond Jackson shares with Stiles essentially rendered him incapable of feeling anything other than simple physical appreciation for his best friend.  He doesn’t even know if it’s _possible_ for him to fall in love with someone else.  Jackson could make a try of it with Parrish – they like the same things and their lives have meshed together perfectly since they met – but he meant what he said the first night.  Jackson doesn’t ever want Parrish to hurt the way he hurts because the one person he wants more than air doesn’t want him.  Jordan points with annoying frequency that if _Jackson_ can’t get it up for anyone other than Stiles then the reverse should be true.  Jackson can’t argue the point but one thing he’s trying to wrap his head around from counseling is that constantly rehashing what he can’t fix will only send him spiraling down into the pit again.

Walking to the field, Jackson muses on the fact that at least Jordan isn’t going _without_ on his behalf.  On any given night he might come home to a shirt on the guest room doorknob – Jackson snorts thinking why bother with the warning.  It’s not like he can’t _hear_ Jordan and his latest bed warmer.  The comfort comes in knowing that if Jackson needs his friend, Jordan will politely send his date home even in the middle of the night.  It’s happened once or twice when nightmares tormented Jackson.  He apologizes but Parrish brushes it off and just says that it’s what brothers do.  Jackson finishes changing into his cleats and runs onto the field.  The game turns out to be all supernatural players so no one bothers with safety gear.  Battered but healing from a game far rougher than they would have played with humans, Jackson forgets he ever saw Stiles that day.

* * *

Stiles watches the game in his Jeep across the street from the field.  He swallows hard watching Jackson weaving in and around the other players like he was just a cool breeze in the trees.  The man is _beautiful._

_So was Derek_.

Stiles winces at the voice in his head – the one that jars him every time he finds his thoughts slipping toward Jackson.  Oddly, it’s Scott’s voice – Jackson’s most vocal detractor.  He knows his best friend and brother means well but lately … lately it’s been difficult to put the phone down when he finds it in his hand, thumb ready to type out a quick text.  Stiles doesn’t know what he would say, but he finds himself wanting more and more to reach out. 

The marks don’t ache all the time, but they warm now just being in close proximity to Jackson.  He felt the same sensation earlier that day and caught a glimpse of Jackson and Jordan going out the door, arm in arm like buddies.  Scott keeps enough tabs on Jackson’s comings and goings to know that they’re living together.  He wonders what else they do together.  Scott says anyone that knows them swears they’re just friends, but watching them on the field, the way their bodies just seem to move in perfect tandem … Stiles feels his eyes sting.  He didn’t tell Scott he was doing this and he wonders if it’s a mistake.  He wonders if Jackson feels like this all the time – empty and alone. 

Stiles plays lacrosse too … he’s not great at it but he bets he’d be able to keep up with Jackson.  Even if not, he’s sure Jackson would teach him – Stiles makes himself stop thinking along those lines.  He can’t let himself get caught up in the ‘what ifs’.  Not after what he did to Jackson – how can he even hope to gain the wolf’s forgiveness after so long?  Would Jackson even bother any longer?  His dad says he would … his dad dutifully delivers all the gifts Jackson brings to the station.  Jackson wouldn’t still be doing that if he hated Stiles … would he?

“What do I do, wolfy?  I miss you so much … but I want him.  Fuck me to hell but I _want_ him … and I don’t know what to do …”

Derek’s ghost doesn’t answer but Stiles manages to wipe his eyes clear of tears long enough to send a text to Jackson before he starts his Jeep and drives away while he can escape unnoticed.

* * *

Jackson laughs as Isaac and Jordan roll around wrestling but he stops when he pulls his phone out to check and sees a single text from Stiles.  He sits down hard on the bleacher and whines softly.  Jordan pops up, shoving Isaac off and running to his friend’s side.

“Jax?”

Jackson holds the phone like it’s a snake and Jordan takes it gingerly. 

**_STILES:      I’m sorry.  Meet me to talk this weekend?_ **

Jackson looks up at Jordan, stricken mute.  He doesn’t know what to answer or even how to fucking use his fingers to respond anymore.  Jordan crouches in front of him and pulls Jackson to him for a soft kiss on the forehead.

“What does your heart want?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Jackson manages to hoarsely whisper.

Jordan types the reply and hits send before handing back the phone.

**_JACKSON:  Yes._ **

Jackson lets Jordan hold him for a long time while he cries.  For the first time in a long time, he thinks he might have hope.


	8. S.W.A.K.

Jackson sits in a booth toward the back of the diner.  He slowly shreds one of the paper napkins making the waitress raise an eyebrow when she comes to refill his water for the fifth time.  She deftly scoops up the pieces.  Jackson lets his hands fall into his lap.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t worry about it … maybe they just ran into traffic or something,” she offers.

Jackson nods and she walks away with a sad look on her face.  Jackson arrived a few minutes early for his meeting with Stiles.  It’s been over an hour now.  Jackson takes out his phone and bites his lip.  He doesn’t know if he should text Stiles one more time or just go home.  He finally ends up texting Jordan.

**_JW:   Come get me?_ **

Jackson looks out the window and notices it’s raining lightly.  He thinks it’s appropriate weather for getting your heart handed to you.  His phone buzzes and he looks down, expecting to see Jordan’s reply but instead finds himself holding his breath.

**_SS:  I’m outside in the Jeep._ **

Jackson tosses a bill on the table and heads for the door, immediately spotting the blue Jeep.  He walks over, unable to stop his feet from moving.  He gets in and just stares at Stiles who is gripping the steering wheel like he might float off without the anchor.  Stiles’ gaze is directed forward and he doesn’t turn to look at Jackson until they both hear a phone buzzing insistently.  Amber eyes flick down to Jackson’s hand.

“You gonna answer that?”

Jackson blinks and stares at the phone confusedly before finally regaining enough higher brain function to answer the silly device.

“It’s ok … I’m ok … he came,” Jackson manages.  He frowns.  “No, Jordan … I just … he was running late.  It’s fine.  It’s all fine.  I’ll … I’ll call you later, ok?  Yes, _mother_ and I have my lunch money too.  Good _bye_.”

Jackson ends the call and tucks his phone into his jeans pocket before raising his eyes to meet Stiles’.  The young man is looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“You and Jordan, huh?”

“Me and Jordan _what_ , Stiles?” Jackson counters.

Stiles shrugs.  “You’ve been pretty chummy since you ran the Preserve together … I mean, he moved _out_ of the Hale pack main house to move in with _you_.  Wolves don’t just _do_ that.”

“Jordan’s not a wolf and he’s more like my brother, Stiles.”

Stiles looks back out the window, his emotions going back behind a wall.  Jackson shivers at the nearness of his soulmate and the sudden chill he’s feeling.  He whines.

“Please Stiles … don’t close me out … Jordan’s my friend.  He … I wouldn’t have made it this long without him.”

Stiles looks over at Jackson, his expression softening.  “I know … I _know_ …”

“Then why --?”

Stiles slams his hand down on his steering wheel, startling Jackson.

“Because it wasn’t supposed to be _you!_   It was supposed to be Derek … I was supposed to be with Derek forever but now … now I want you and I don’t know if it’s real or just brain chemicals or what the hell is going _on_ anymore!” Stiles barks.  “You found someone … someone else … so where … where does that leave us?”  Stiles runs his hand over his face.  “And I know I don’t have any right to even _ask_ after the way I treated you.”

Jackson reaches out but pulls his hand back before he makes contact.  “No, you really don’t have the right to ask but at the same time of anyone on the planet, you have the _only_ right to ask.  Stiles … he’s my _friend_ and _brother._   Does he wish it was more?  Yes.  Do I wish it was more?  I don’t know … I can only ever think of _you_ in that place beside me.”  Jackson runs his hand over his face.  “Jordan found me … he was the deputy that pulled me out of the bathtub when I tried to … he helped Liam save my life.”

Stiles looks over at Jackson, his eyes reflecting the pain of that memory.  “And you can blame me for _that_ too.”

Jackson snorts.  “Didn’t we cover this when I was in the hospital?  It wasn’t your fault, Stiles … I lost hope.  I couldn’t see a way out and you called it when I woke up in the hospital.  I was an idiot.  And you helped me when I had the panic attack … none of this is anyone’s _fault_ , Stiles.  It just happened.”

“But I lost Derek when it happened.” Stiles says softly.

Jackson nods.  “But it gave me you.”

Stiles drives.

* * *

They drive for the better part of an hour.  Stiles goes off the highway and onto a dirt road.  Jackson doesn’t ask or even talk.  He can find his way back to Beacon Hills if he has to but he doesn’t think Stiles is the ‘kill them in the woods and hide the body’ type.  When they pull up outside a small cabin, however, Jackson frowns.

“Uh, Stiles …”

“Relax, wolfboy.  This is my dad’s fishing cabin … it’s just a place we can talk without being interrupted by anyone,” Stiles explains, getting down.

“You mean McCall,” Jackson says as he slides out the other side.

“Scotty is _my_ brother.  He’s just a little … enthusiastic about it.”

Jackson shrugs and follows Stiles inside.  The cabin floorplan is simple and the décor spartan.  There’s a couch that’s seen better years and a battered armchair.  Jackson stands uneasily as Stiles walks up to him and very slowly puts his arms around Jackson’s waist.

“ _Stiles,_ ” Jackson breathes, his body ram-rod straight.

Stiles presses himself against Jackson and looks into his soulmate’s eyes.  Jackson’s wolf is fighting to surface and the werewolf is trembling in his arms.  He smirks and lifts Jackson’s arms to go around his neck.

“What are you --?” Jackson starts.

Stiles’ lips stop him from asking the question.  A soft whine escapes Jackson and he opens to Stiles.  At first he lets Stiles explore but then he begins to taste and work his tongue around Stiles’.  The marks are warm against Jackson’s face and he slides a hand up from Stiles’ neck to the young man’s face.  They both pause then, the kiss broken and eyes searching.  Stiles runs his hand over Jackson’s and guides it to his cheek.  His amber eyes flutter shut when Jackson finally touches him.  Stiles gasps and his eyes open to see Jackson’s glowing blue, his fangs sliding free.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Stiles murmurs, his own hand coming up to brush fingertips against Jackson’s marks in return.

Jackson wants nothing more than to lay Stiles out on the couch and follow the long lines of his body with his nose, lips and tongue.  He wants to memorize every inch of his soulmate’s skin until neither of them can forget the feel of the other. 

“Thinking awful hard there, wolfboy,” Stiles whispers.

Jackson takes the hardest step of his life backwards.  “Stiles …” His voice is ragged from being half-shifted.  “You know I want this … I’m yours forever.  But you … do you want this?  Me?”

Stiles hugs himself and nods even as tears flow down his face.  “I want this … I want this so much I can’t sleep anymore because it’s not right without you there … it’s not what it’s _supposed_ to be.  I hate mornings now and I know it’s because you’re not … there.”

Stiles gestures vaguely beside himself.  Jackson inhales the grief he can feel coming off Stiles in waves. 

“It doesn’t mean you love him any less, Stiles.  He knew how you felt,” Jackson whispers.  His body is human again.  “He loved you so much.  I know how easy that is … loving you.”

Stiles looks up, his eyes red and bleary.  “I’m not –“

Jackson closes the gap between them again and shakes his head.  “You’re everything you’re supposed to be … you’re you.  Don’t you get it?  No matter what, I’m always going to love you.  Need you.  And it’s not all biology … my heart’s in this for the duration, Stiles.  Do you think – can you ever love me too?”

Stiles tugs Jackson to him.  “I already do.”

* * *

Jackson follows Stiles to the couch but he’s the one being pushed down and his shirt rucked up so that Stiles can taste his heated skin.  Jackson groans and arches up, pulling at Stiles’ shirt until it’s off.  Muscles ripple beneath tan skin and Jackson thrills to see Stiles’ shiver at his touch.  He sits up with Stiles straddling his lap and his hands roam over the smooth back.  Jackson jerks his own shirt off and then he’s back at licking and tasting Stiles’ skin along his neck.  It’s perfect, the way Stiles’ scent fills his nose and overflows into his brain.  He mouths along a shoulder line and is about to nip lightly when something catches his attention.

Jackson picks Stiles up and tosses him over the back of the couch as he comes up to face the werewolf standing in the doorway of the cabin.  He’s shifted and his claws are out.  The beta staring back at him roars and Jackson responds in kind.  Stiles stands shakily and realizes who the other werewolf is.

“Scott, _no!_ ”

Jackson retracts his claws only seconds before Scott McCall slams into him, bearing him to the floor hard.  He gets his leg up and kicks hard, shoving Scott off him and into the thick log wall.  He growls as he easily leaps to his feet.

_“Don’t, McCall … he chose.  He chose me.  Go home.”_

_“You don’t know him and you’re not who he’s supposed to be with_ ,” Scott growls back.

_“I know you love him … don’t do this.  Go home.”_

Jackson stands up straight and lets his body go back to being human.  Stiles is yelling at him to shift but Jackson pushes his wolf down.  Scott attacks and suddenly there’s another body between them taking the full brunt of the strike.  Jackson roars and lunges toward Scott but he can hear Stiles screaming that he’s not hurt.  It’s not him.  Jackson pulls up short and looks around.  He balks at what he sees.

Jackson looks down to see Jordan lying sprawled out on the floor, bleeding from a savagely torn torso.  His eyes are glowing bright.  Scott shift back to human in horror at what he’s done.  He reaches for Jordan but Jackson shoves him away.

“Don’t touch him!” Jackson yells, placing himself over Jordan’s body. 

Stiles is there, touching his face and saying his name softly until Jackson looks at him. 

“I’m taking Scott home.  Will Jordan --?”

Jackson nods.  “He’ll be fine.  Go … I’ll call you when we get home.  Stiles …”

Stiles presses a soft kiss to Jackson’s lips.  “We’re going to finish our talk, wolfboy.  Count on it.”

* * *

Somehow, Stiles gets Scott out of the cabin and into his Jeep.  When the headlights disappear down the road, Jackson kneels by his friend who is slowly regaining consciousness.  Jackson can see the skin knitting together as Jordan lies there.  Jordan chuckles lightly.

“McCall, man … damn cockblock.”

Jackson snorts and then semi-hysterical laughter pours out of him.  Jordan grips his hand tightly and the two friends laugh until Jackson begins to sob.  Jordan is healed enough to sit up and pull his brother close.  He doesn’t envy Scott the conversation he’s going to have with Stiles.  He knows just by the way Jackson smells like Stiles now that the two are forever gone on each other.  No force beyond death is ever going to separate them.  The change in smell makes Jordan’s long-held crush evaporate.  It was never going to be reality and suddenly, that’s just fine with the deputy.  He wants what Jackson and Stiles have found.  He only hopes his doesn’t come in such a dramatic fashion.

“Come on, Jax.  We really gotta have a conversation where I’m not holding your blubbering ass,” Jordan teases.

Muffled from his position against his shoulder, Jackson grumbles.  “My ass is off-limits effective immediately.  Blubbering or otherwise.”

“Good.  _Finally_.” Jordan says.

Jackson looks up and Jordan thumbs away tears from the non-marked side.  He smiles gently at his brother and leans in to take his first … and last … true kiss from Jackson.  It’s short and sweet but it marks an end.  Jordan plants another one on his friend’s forehead. 

“Time to get you to Stiles, Jax.”

Jackson sighs.  _Finally_ , indeed.


	9. United

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein there be sexy times ... fair warning.

Jackson wakes alone in his own bed. He stares at the ceiling replaying events from the previous day in his head. He runs his fingers over the marks and a pleasant shiver runs through him. A smile pulls the corner of his lips up. From somewhere he feels an answering  _tug_ … it’s not really anything coherent, just impressions mostly. Jackson feels warm sleepy contentment … Stiles is waking up. His phone buzzes and Jackson slides the screen open.

_**SS: Nice way to wake up. How’d u sleep?** _

Jackson sighs and decides to be honest.

_**JW: For shit. How’s McCall?** _

Jackson chews on his lip while he watches the dots dance indicating Stiles is typing. He  waits, trying to  sense something from the fledgling link between them  but only an odd blankness fills the  space.  Jackson locks his screen and sets the phone on the nightstand, a knot forming in his stomach.  Telling himself he's being stupid,  Jackson gets out of bed and  forces himself to walk into the bathroom. He starts a shower and steps under the water. Jackson feels the pounding water echoing the thump from within his skull.  He washes himself on automatic, soaping and rin s ing without much thought to the movements. 

Three tiny dots flicker in his mind over and over as he tries to parse what Stiles' lack of response means. He feels lost, helpless and deeply uneasy. A familiar tension races through his body and he feels the familiar stretch of skin and pop of bone as he shifts into his beta form.  Clawed fingers punch through the bar of soap, leaving it in chunks on the bottom of the bathtub. A low whine escapes his throat and Jackson leans forward on the tiled wall, panting anxiously.  He whips around with a snarl when the door opens and the shower curtain is pulled back abruptly. Jordan reaches past him to shut off the water and pulls him out with the other hand. Jackson is so startled, he shifts back to human.

“Fuck! Jordan, what the --”

Jordan drags him, wet and covered in suds, into the bedroom. He picks up Jackson's phone and pushes it into his hand. “ Talk. I'll bring you a towel.”

Jackson sees Stiles' name on the screen and his stomach does another drop. “Stiles? What – what's wrong?”

“ _WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK, DUDE!_ ”

Jackson  holds the phone away from his ear, wincing. Jordan returns with the towel and snorts at his friend's confused expression. 

“Somebody's in trouble,” he sing-songs.

Jackson snaps the towel at Jordan's crotch and gets an eye-flash in return as the man departs. He lifts the phone up once he hears that Stiles' voice is a bit calmer. 

“Stiles ... Stiles ...” Jackson says unhappily. He scrubs one-handed at his dripping hair and runs the towel down his body.

Stiles, however, is still yelling at him but the words are distinguishable now.  “The  _fucking l_ _ink_ , wolfboy! It goes both ways …  oh my  _gods_ do you know I was halfway out the door to see if you were curled up in a ball under the bed!  What the  _fuck_ is wrong?!  What’s got you so  fucking  freaked out?!?” Stiles snaps.

Jackson groans and falls back on the bed, his towel discarded on the floor. He knows he must be bright red and throws an arm over his eyes.

“Stiles, gods I'm sorry ... I just – you didn't answer me and I thought I’d fucked up again so I just ignored my phone and took a shower and then Jordan was dragging me out and – and … are you _laughing_ at me?” Jackson asks,  sitting up.

Stiles ' laughter is bright and for some reason it makes all the tension melt out of Jackson's body. He feels the marks  warm pleasantly  against his skin and a smile tugs at his mouth.  Stiles' glee tapers into a snort and he  draws a deep breath before continuing.

“Oh my gods you sound just like me … used to drive Derek _nuts_! Wait … does this mean I’m gonna start feeling all wolfy now?”

Jackson blinks and realizes he was babbling in a way he never has before. He exhales in surprise. “Wow ... I didn't even notice I was doing it ... you  _felt_ me?”

“Weird, right? It was like ... like the beginning of a panic attack. I used to get those a lot when my mom died. You were really spinning yourself up, wolfboy.”

Jackson  sighs. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Why were you so worried, Jackson?” Stiles' voice is honestly curious and Jackson feels no maliciousness behind it.

“ _Why?_ Stiles, I just – _we_ just connected. I don't want to lose that because I said or did something to fuck it up. I can't – I can't go through that again, Stiles. I can't.”

Stiles is quiet for a long moment. He sighs. “I know, Jackson. I'm sorry if I worried you ... Scotty and me ... he's like my brother.  He's just worried about me.”

Jackson rubs his temple. “I know, Stiles but ... I can't – my wolf won't let him do that again, Stiles. I was able to push it down this time but if he comes between us again, I can't promise I'll be able to stay in control.”

“I know. He's ... he's really sorry for attacking Jordan. He wants to apologize in person,” Stiles says softly.

“I think that can be arranged,” Jackson says. “At the firehouse, later. If I'm with my pack ...”

“Yeah, I gotcha. Derek was always more calm when he was at home with the pack. Tomorrow ok?” 

“That's fine,” Jackson agrees. “Hey, let me call you right back?”

“Yeah, ok,” Stiles says.

Jackson ends the call as Jordan pokes his head in. “I'm off to work. You ok?”

Jackson nods. “Get out of here, I'll text you later.”

“Any progress?”

“McCall wants to do a face-to-face and apologize.”

Jordan makes a face but sighs. “I must love you, brother. Tell me you're at least gonna get laid this time?”

Jackson chucks a pillow at his roommate. “Shut up,  jerk.” When Jordan doesn't leave, only stands in the doorway grinning, Jackson rolls his eyes. “That's the plan, Jordan if you get the hell out of here!”

Jordan tosses the pillow back at Jackson. “Put on some clothes, perv. Text me later?”

Jackson nods.  When he hears the squad car leave, Jackson sits back on his bed against the headboard. He  doesn't bother getting dressed ... as a werewolf, he's most comfortable in his own skin. He dials Stiles and waits. His soulmate picks up after two rings.

“Hey, wolfboy,” Stiles answers. “You kiss your boytoy goodbye.”

Jackson feels the uneasiness through the link. “Stiles ...  we've been over this.  Jordan and I are just friends. I need you to believe that. Just like you and Scott ... he's my brother.  Don't make me choose.”

“Who would you choose?” 

Jackson's voice is barely a whisper when he answers. “You. It's always going to be you, Stiles.”

Jackson feels relief pour into the link along with regret. “I'm sorry ... that wasn't fair. I know ... I'll always choose you too, Jackson.”

“You – you will?”

Instead of an answer, Jackson gets a surge of heat through the link and he suddenly realizes he  _knows_ Stiles is naked and hard. He groans as his body responds and fights to keep control.  A losing battle, his cock surges to full hardness and he can feel the wolf  pulling him forward into the link, his marks burning but with a pain that is so so  _good._ Jackson nearly drops his phone as he shifts and he growls out a soft, “Stop.” Stiles whines, not willing to give up what they're feeling.

“Come on, wolfboy … don’t be like that,” Stiles grumbles hoarsely.

Jackson shakes his head,  fighting with his wolf and the yawning abyss promising so much pleasure if he'll only give in and let himself  _feel._ Dim reason reminds him that S tiles can’t see him. “No t – not like this ... Stiles,  _please._ First time ... not like this ... oh gods ... don't want to stop ...”

Arousal, warm and seducing, fades gradually into the background but it doesn't dissipate. 

“I can be there in 20,” Stiles growls in response.

Jackson ends the call and sends desperate acceptance through the link.

* * *

Jackson changes the sheets on his bed faster than he's ever managed in his life. He can't be bothered about the rest of the house but both he and Jordan are fairly OCD about cleaning because of their hyper-sensitive olfactory senses. If all he can pick up is the faintest hint of dust, it'll have to do for now. He's done waiting.

Stiles' Jeep turns into the driveway slowly and Jackson feels a soft questioning which makes him smile. He looks at himself in the mirror and sends the heat pulsing in his cock. A huffed laugh escapes him when the Jeep jerks into park and pounding erupts from the front door. Jackson opens the door, jerks Stiles inside and slams it shut with his soulmate's body pinned to it.

“Oh god ...” Stiles moans as Jackson's teeth nip along his jaw. “You're not ... god are you _naked_?”

Jackson doesn't bother answering. He doesn't care about talking right now and he isn't sure he can anyway since he's still in his beta form. Hooking his hand just under Stiles' backside, he hefts the human off the floor and carries him into the bedroom. They keep the marked sides of their faces pressed together and slip into a mutual moan at the sensation. When Jackson drops Stiles onto the mattress, the other man pulls off the basketball shorts and tank he'd jerked on to drive over. 

Jackson stares at his soulmate. He'd only seen Stiles' chest before but now he sees everything below the waist and it's no less beautiful to him. He runs a trembling, clawed hand along Stiles' hip and down his thigh as he climbs onto the bed and kneels between his soulmate's legs. Stiles' eyes slide shut and he sighs, his pelvis pushing a very dark cock into the air between them. Jackson pulls back and Stiles' eyes open in concern.

“Jack-Jackson?”

Jackson shakes his head, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Give me ... second ... shift down ...”

“No!” Stiles cries.

Jackson looks at his other half in confusion. Stiles sits up and slowly runs his fingertips over the marks that match his own and they both shudder. 

“Like this ... like this, Jax. Let your wolf out ... let our first time be like this ... please?”

Jackson shakes his head. “Could ... hurt you.”

Stiles smiles gently. “You won't. Your wolf ... I trust it. I trust you.”

Jackson's eyes fill with tears as he presses into Stiles again for a kiss. His fangs are in the way but somehow they manage and Stiles' moans when Jackson sucks out his bottom lip are the most sinful thing he's ever heard. 

Stiles rides the surging desire between them. He'd felt the power within Derek before but his fiancee never let his wolf out when they were making love. Like Jackson, he feared he would hurt his fragile human boyfriend. Stiles had allowed it because instinctively he knew it was a real possibility. With Jackson, however, Stiles feels safer than he's ever felt in his life. As the wolf preps him and lubes them both, Stiles feels no concern. The claws which look so fearsome are retracted and Jackson never stops kissing him throughout. 

Jackson pauses before he presses into Stiles. He looks down and his own question flows into the link. Stiles opens his mouth to respond with a smart-ass remark when he sees something. His eyes widen as he stares up at Jackson and he can't stop the sudden tears. Jackson whines and tries to pull back but Stiles only follows and frames his soulmate's face with his hands.

“Your eyes ... all this time, I never noticed ...”

Jackson jerks away, blinking frantically. Stiles won't allow the wolf to escape and Jackson shifts back to human in distress. “I'm sorry ... sorry ...”

“No ... don't! Jackson, don't run! I'm not ... I didn't see until now ... I didn't know ... they're _blue_. That means ... Derek ... he's why, isn't he?”

Jackson looks at Stiles miserably. A werewolf who takes the life of an innocent is marked for life with blue eyes. A constant reminder to themselves and others that a life not meant to end was taken by their hand. Stiles realizes that his condemnation of Jackson was only compounded by the reflection he saw in the mirror every day. 

“I'm the reason he died. I could have saved you both ... and he was an alpha. My wolf knows it failed,” Jackson explains softly, his head down.

Stiles kneels in front of his soulmate and tilts Jackson's chin up. “I forgive you, Jackson. It wasn't your fault, but you need to hear this anyway. I'll keep saying it for as long as I have to ... I forgive you. You were right ... at the cabin. If you had saved him it probably would have killed me in the process just from losing you ... and Derek would  _not_ have dealt with that very well. I love you, blue eyes and all.”

It's the first time Stiles has ever said the words. Jackson's wolf rises to the surface and Stiles is pinned to the mattress again. Jackson enjoys watching his soulmate writhe beneath him and he gently raises Stiles' hips as he moves to his knees. Jackson presses into Stiles slowly but insistently, sending all his desire through the link. It feeds back from Stiles like a wave that washes over Jackson, rendering him in capable of feeling anything but how his body and Stiles' are now one. Stiles pushes up on his elbows and rocks in time with Jackson's thrusts, his head thrown back. Jackson's snarls are echoed by Stiles' guttural moans. Their breathing shortens into gasps as they pick up speed, the link blurring whatever sense of self they have until reality disappears in twin howls. 


	10. Sky Bright with Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit emotional but I hope you all enjoyed the ride and thanks to everyone who read, commented or just stopped by to say hi. I love you all.

**_JP: WELL?!??_ **

**_JW: Yes. Now shut up._ **

The emoji that fill his screen next make Jackson roll his eyes. He snorts and sets his phone back on the nightstand.

“Did you win?” Stiles mumbles from somewhere around his navel.

Jackson runs his fingers through the brown hair and smiles when Stiles presses a kiss against his side. It’s going into early evening now and they haven’t been out of the bedroom except for one quick shower a few minutes ago. Jackson feels settled in a way he’s never known and he wonders if Stiles feels the same way. As the thought flits through his brain, Stiles uncurls himself and moves over Jackson. They kiss and rub their marks together.

“It’s better than I thought it could be, Jax,” Stiles says softly, arms braced on either side of Jackson’s head. “It … I won’t ever forget him. I can’t.”

Jackson brushes his knuckles against Stiles’ jawline and thrills when the other man leans into it. “Stiles, just because this happened doesn’t mean you forget everything that came before. Derek was the love of your life and you lost him. You’re allowed to be sad over that. He was a piece of your heart.”

Stiles smiles down at Jackson. “Thought _you_ were supposed to be the love of my life.”

“I will be,” Jackson replies, grinning.

“You're not even my type, dude,” Stiles teases.

Jackson pulls Stiles down for another kiss. “I'm everyone's type, _dude_.”

* * *

Jackson wakes up in darkness. He reaches for Stiles but finds only empty sheets. He sits up, feeding his uneasiness into the link. The return warmth calms his wolf and he smiles when Stiles enters the room with two mugs of what smell like hot cocoa.

“Hot chocolate _a la Stilinski_!” his soulmate crows, handing over a cup brimming with marshmallows.

Jackson snorts and sips. His surprised noise has Stiles smirking. The taste is perfect – usually hot chocolate is far too sweet for werewolves.

“How --?”

“Dude, I dated a werewolf and my best friend is one ... trust me, I've learned a few things. Derek _loved_ my – shit, I'm sorry. I've got to quit doing that,” Stiles groans.

Jackson shakes his head. “No, Stiles ... I told you ... being with Derek made you who you are ... and this is ... _awesome_!”

Stiles grins broadly. “Really?”

Jackson dips two fingers into the melted marshmallow froth and trails it down his mate's chest before following it with his mouth. Stiles sucks in a startled breath as Jackson's tongue drags up his skin. He hears a chuckle as the blonde sits back and finishes his cocoa. Stiles' breathing is quick and he gapes at Jackson.

“Dude, did you just ... you can't ...”

Jackson gives Stiles a look and their link flares with hot arousal. Stiles shivers with anticipation. He puts his mug to one side and puts Jackson's beside it. “Wolfboy, you don't even know who you're messing with.”

Jackson growls and his eyes flash blue in the dark room before Stiles is on him.

* * *

Stiles groans when he hears knocking. “Oh my god doesn't he know the sun is not up?”

Jackson grumbles as he rolls out of bed. “He knows. The house better be on fire, Jordan or I --”

Jackson’s voice falters as he sees Parrish's face. He blinks, running a hand over his face.

“Jordan?”

“It's – there was a call for a disturbance at a convenience store,” his roommate says.

Stiles hears the words and he's stumbling out of bed, scared and awake. He pushes Jackson to one side.

“My dad? My dad? Jordan what --”

Jordan holds up his hand. “He's fine, Stiles. He was shot but it was a through and through – he's at the hospital. Should be released soon.”

Stiles turns and starts pulling on jeans and his shirt, looking around desperately for his socks.

“Thanks, bud, give me a sec,” Jackson says to Jordan, closing the door.

“Stiles --”

“Gotta get to the hospital, Jackson ... gotta – where the hell is my sock?”

Jackson gets his arms around Stiles and stills the frantically moving body. He grips tighter as Stiles fights him.

“Let me go. It's my dad! It's my dad!”

“I know, babe, I know and we'll go see him but you have to calm down. He'll need you to be calm – worried is fine but not freaked out. Stiles, please listen to me,” Jackson begs.

Stiles turns in his soulmate's arms and suddenly Jackson is on the receiving end of the crushing hug. He gently tips Stiles' face up and presses their marks together.

“I'm here. I'm right here, Stiles. He's safe. He's ok – Jordan knows how you feel. He wouldn't lie about that,” Jackson promises.

“Just – after Derek ...”

Jackson presses a kiss against the mop of dark hair. “Babe, I know ... I get it. Why do you think Jordan drove all the way over to tell us instead of calling? It's ok. Come on, let's get you cleaned up and dressed ok? Jordan'll drive us over to the hospital.”

“You have work --”

Jackson snorts and turns his head slightly to speak. “Jordan?”

“I already called Deaton!” Comes the return shout.

Stiles shakes his head. “Supernatural freaks ...”

* * *

Stiles lets Melissa lead him to his father's room. The older man is upright in his bed looking grumpier than usual. His face lights up when he sees Stiles and exhales when the young man buries his face against his father’s neck.

“Dad …“

John Stilinski gently presses a kiss to his son’s trembling head. “I’m ok, kiddo. I’m ok.”

“You’re not ok; you have a _hole_ in your shoulder!” Stiles protests, voice muffled by the sheriff’s gown.

The sheriff chuckles but he doesn’t let go of Stiles. Melissa helps him ease over and Stiles crawls onto the bed, his head resting on his dad’s good arm. John glances up at Jackson.

“So I take it you two are --?”

Stiles grins. “Yeah. We are.”

Jackson smiles back. “We are, sir.”

The sheriff nods. He points a stern finger at Jackson. “I own several guns, son. And I have wolfsbane rounds for them all.”

Stiles groans and covers his face. “ _Daaad_ , I just hooked up with the guy! Could you not threaten to kill him just yet?”

Jackson blushes furiously as does Stiles when he realizes what he’s said. Melissa laughs brightly and Stiles climbs down off the bed.

“I’m just gonna – we should – Jackson has work,” he finishes lamely.

The sheriff snorts and waves them off. “Go. And I will refrain from shooting him if both of you promise to _never_ share your sex life with me again. Ever.”

“You won’t hear it from me, sir,” Jackson promises fervently.

“I’d rather not _hear_ you at all … maybe you can get him to tone it down but Derek never could,” John mutters. “Half the neighborhood complained when they were ‘sneaking’ around.”

“Oh my _gods_ ,” Stiles whines. “I’m leaving now. When do you get out?”

Melissa replies as she helps the sheriff straighten himself. “He’s staying for observation so he probably won’t be out of here until tomorrow morning.”

“I’m fine,” the sheriff insists.

“Hush, you,” Stiles orders. “I told you pork rinds were death!”

“I wasn’t there for _me_ , son!”

The good natured bickering continues until the room door opens. Jackson brightens when he sees Kira enter with a small flowering plant. She waves shyly.

“Hey, Jackson. Sheriff … the chief told us what happened. My shift doesn’t start till later so I wanted to drop by,” the _kitsune_ explains, giving him a brief hug.

“Thanks, sweetheart, you’ve made my morning,” John replies.

“Um, hello? Only son standing right here!” Stiles protests.

Kira giggles and the sheriff rolls his eyes. “You didn’t bring me a plant.”

Stiles throws his hands up. “A plant?!? This is the secret key to your fatherly love and acceptance? Foliage?”

Jackson finally loses what grip he has on his control and bursts out laughing. It occurs to Stiles that he hasn’t heard Jackson laugh so freely before. His marks warm pleasantly and he finds himself moving to wrap a long arm around his soulmate’s waist. Jackson presses a kiss to Stiles’ temple as he wipes his eyes. The link pulses with a warmth that comes only from family and Stiles finds his eyes stinging. When he looks over at his dad, it’s to find the older man smiling wistfully at him, which sends the tears tumbling and Stiles back to his father’s side for another hug.

“I told you, kiddo,” he whispers.

The moment breaks when Scott walks into the room. Stiles feels anxious energy from Jackson and sends calm reassurance back at his mate. Scott pauses and holds his hands up.

“I’m just – I just came to see the sheriff.”

Jackson nods and looks over at John. “I’ll just wait outside.”

“I’ll go with you, Jackson,” Kira says softly. “Get better, sheriff.”

The man nods and Kira turns to exit the room by the door Jackson is holding open when she trips and falls into Scott. Jackson smirks – Kira’s awesome on the job but sometimes just daily things bring out a charming clumsiness that’s made the _kitsune_ the darling of their station. His smirk fades when he realizes that Scott caught her but hasn’t let go. And that they are staring at each other … with soft blue marks blooming across their faces.

“I think he gets it now, Jackson,” Stiles declares smugly.

The sheriff groans and Melissa, caught off-guard by her son finding his soulmate, jumps into action, ushering the shell-shocked couple out the door and into another room. Jackson looks at Stiles and starts laughing again. Stiles decides he wants to hear that sound as often as possible for the rest of his life.

* * *

Sitting at the bar, Stiles watches Jordan and Jackson play a game of cutthroat. He smiles over at Scott when the werewolf sits on a stool beside him with a beer.

“How’re things with the new roomie?” Scott asks.

“Probably about the same as things with your ‘roomie’,” Stiles replies with air quotes. “Christening every flat surface we can find.”

“Stiles!” Scott protests with bright red ears.

“Oh my _god,_ Stilinski!” Jackson barks from the pool table when whistles and catcalls go up from his squad.

Stiles just drinks his beer. He loves werewolf hearing sometimes.

“Things are good with you and Kira?” Stiles asks.

“Incredible. Stiles … I’m sorry … I didn’t _know_ …” Scott begins to apologize.

“Dude for about the seven _thousandth_ time, you’re forgiven,” Stiles insists, taking a long drink off his beer. He looks over with a knowing grin. “But dude, the sex is _awesome,_ right?”

Again, the wolf whistles fill the bar and Jackson misses his shot. He glares over one shoulder at his mate who simply sits and smirks at him. Jordan laughs.

“Give it up, Jax,” he advises, taking his shot and winning the game. “You’re never going to have a dull moment with that guy.”

Jackson racks for the next game, muttering. “Not dull I can deal with … it’s having my sex life broadcast for every wolf in the tri-county area to hear that bothers me.”

“At least he’s complimentary,” Jordan offers, earning him a glare and a chalk cube tossed at his head.

It’s been a month since the sheriff was shot. He and Stiles have declined joining the Hale pack in favor of maintaining their own loose group of unmated wolves and close family, which he considers Jordan despite the man’s protests. Jackson denies that he’s the alpha, but Stiles points out frequently that the younger wolves rely on him more and more. He thinks it’s a good thing so Jackson just goes with it. Scott stayed with the Hale pack after mating Kira. Jackson’s wolf still doesn’t trust Scott, but they’re at least civil to one another. Jackson watches Stiles listening to Scott talking but Jackson feels the love his mate has for him. He returns with a smile.

“Jackson!”

A weight lands on Jackson’s back – Liam. The youngest member of their loose pack, Jackson feels a connection to Liam because of his support when he was so depressed about Stiles. He reaches back and tousles the young man’s hair.

“Hey Jordan,” Liam says cheerfully. “Are you going running with us this time?”

Jordan sighs. He hasn’t been on many runs since Stiles and Jackson mated but he decides it’s time to end his self-imposed grieving period. Good friends or no, he was half in love with Jackson. It’s been lonely without the wolf around.

“Yeah, I think I will this time,” Jordan agrees.

“Awesome!” Liam says and puts out his fist.

Jordan chuckles and fist-bumps the wolf but then he freezes. He stares at his hand and then back at Liam in shock. Jackson throws his head back and howls. Stiles is at his side a second later.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!” Stiles says, his surprise mirroring the other members of their pack who are howling in glee over the new soulmating.

“But – but – we’ve –“ Liam stammers as the marks start flowing down his face.

Jordan shakes his head, the blue marks deepening on his own temple. “I didn’t … I never did the wolf-cuddles … and I rarely went on runs … it’s just …”

Jackson slides an arm around Jordan’s shoulders. “Take it from me, brother … just go with it.”

Stiles guides the trembling Liam to Jordan’s side and the young wolf suddenly throws his arms around Jordan’s neck, kissing him fiercely. The howling reaches ear-splitting decibels.

Jackson winces but tugs Stiles close and steals his own kiss.

“Looks like we’re not the new kids on the block anymore -- regrets?” he asks.

Stiles snorts. “Nope. You’re officially stuck with me.”

“Guess our big plan to tell everyone tonight sort of went by the wayside,” Jackson murmurs.

Stiles shrugs. “You’ll have to explain why you’re not going on the run anyway. Tell them then.”

Jackson kisses Stiles deeply. “I still don’t remember when I agreed to get knocked up?”

“That would be your magically-induced womb, big guy,” Stiles says with a wry grin. “And I can officially say I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Jackson sighs. Looking at the young man he’s been in love with since a fateful winter day, Jackson knows it was meant to be. He smiles and lets his mood suffuse the link. A soft brush of intense emotion fills the link and amber eyes shine with sudden love. Jackson kisses Stiles and knows that Jordan is right. Life with Stiles will never be boring or even remotely dull.  And he suspect having pups is going to be an adventure for both of them.

When Stiles leaves him to congratulate Liam, Jackson happens to glance in the mirror behind the bar. He sees a tall man with dark hair and a black leather jacket standing there, watching him intently. The man’s eyes gleam red for just a moment and he says something. Jackson looks around to try and find the figure in the crowd of rowdy wolves and humans but no one is there and when he looks back at the mirror, the man is gone. He feels a strange heat on his marks and he knows it’s not coming from Stiles. Jackson sits down at the bar and orders a soda water. He sips it, replaying what he heard in his head.

_Be good to him_ _…_ _I expect to see both of you when it_ _’_ _s time._

Jackson lifts his glass. “See you around, alpha … but not any time soon.”

“Who’re you talking to, handsome?” Stiles asks.

“Ghosts,” Jackson replies, with a smile. “Ready to head home?”

Stiles frowns and studies Jackson’s eyes but the wolf just lets his blue eyes shimmer for a moment and the resultant heat that comes back to him makes him grin. His world that was so gray once upon a time is now full of so much color he can’t imagine it was ever anything else. Stiles has him by the hand and they are heading out the door, shouting farewells as they go.

Nope … definitely _not_ dull.


End file.
